


Beautiful Crime

by icantwritegood



Series: Road Trip [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: IT'S FINALLY HERE, and he's also BADASS, and ten times more sexy, dare i tag this, it's gonna get dark, lovers to enemies?, more murderous, ryan's a PI now, second part of the road trip babyyy, shane's......... lurkin, shyan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:19:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantwritegood/pseuds/icantwritegood
Summary: Five years after the life-changing road trip.Things have simultaneously changed yet remained the same.





	1. United We Stand, Divided We Fall

The rain pattered heavily off the black umbrellas, almost drowning out the sound of the priest. The three figures stood on the outskirts, side by side, tallest to shortest. The weather was grim. The funeral was grim. The three people standing were grimmer. 

"Have you ever been to so many funerals?" he muttered, readjusting his grip on the shared umbrella. 

"No." The tall woman tucked her grey hair behind her ear, placing her hand back in her coat pocket. "And I can't help but notice they're getting closer."

The priest droned on. The gathered people grew irritated at the persistent rain. The raindrops ran down the framed photo of Lucy Goldsworth, part of the Goldsworth empire. If a mob counted as an empire.

He glanced at the two women beside him, at both their stoney faces. "Do you think we're next?"

Horsley didn't reply for a moment. "I think we're soon."

Norris pulled the collar of her dark coat up to cover her chin, watching the ceremony go on... and on... and on. "He's going to come for you first, Banjo."

McClintock only gave her a worried glance. What was the point in protesting the truth? "I did what I did for a reason. It was a business decision."

"And it made sense," said Horsley coolly, turning away. Norris and McClintock followed, huddled under the large black umbrella. "But he just wiggled out of it. He got lucky. Like he always seems to, in the end."

The gravel crunched under their feet as they moved through the headstones, leaving the funeral behind. No point in staying, really. The dead were dead, and staying in the open for too long was dangerous now.

"He's going to take a while yet," said Norris, lighting a cigarette, the flame shining off her dark skin. "Ricky's still out there. Alone."

Banjo shivered. "I'm terrified for the guy. I really am."

"He deserves whatever's coming to him." Horsley directed them towards her car, the sleek black vehicle parked on the path. "An eye for an eye."

"He wasn't at the funeral."

"Of course he wasn't." She gave a dry laugh. "It was bait. Cruel bait. Lure him out of hiding with his own mother's death. And he couldn't even go in the end. Not if he valued his life." She disguised her swallow. "Which means he's probably watching."

They came to a halt beside the bonnet, shiny with rain. The rain pittered off the tin. McClintock threw a quick, paranoid look around the grey graveyard, at the huddle of people still visible across the headstones.

"Remember the cop?" Horsley took her keys out, opening the car. "Bergara."

McClintock looked away, appropriately ashamed. "Yes."

"He's a private detective now. Got fired."

Norris raised an eyebrow. "Fired?"

"Quit. Fired. Doesn't matter." Horsley opened the driver door, seeing her bodyguard still in the passenger seat. "What matters is that he's useful now. Useful to us."

Norris gave her a long look, McClintock suddenly seeming quite hopeful behind her. "You think you have the kryptonite, hm?"

"Yes." Horsley sat in, giving them a last look. "Yes, I do."

The three of them looked at each other, waiting for one of them to speak. To say something. To ask Horsley what her plan was this time. Her defense. She was their general in this war. This silent, bloody war. Horsley nodded for them to get in. It was dangerous to speak in the open. The city was a battlefield, under everyone else's noses. And it was her, Norris, and McClintock, united against him. Him, looming over them, a shadow of rage and bitterness and unquenchable vengeance for every little wrong that had been done to him. Nowadays, they were almost afraid to speak his name. The criminal underworld was in panic, in his ever-tightening grip. He had been a good man, once. Now he was the most terrifying adversary any of them had ever had the misfortune to provoke.

* * *

"And what do you remember about him, Ryan?"

He glanced up, fingers still interlocked, tightly. "About Goldsworth?"

"No." The man gave him a gentle smile. "About Shane Madej."

Ryan's heart physically hurt at the name. He closed his eyes. "Not a lot."

"No? And why not?"

Ryan kept his eyes closed, head ducked. "I don't want to."

And he didn't. He was too scared, terrified of his own memories, of what might be hidden in the darkest corners of his mind. The corners he hadn't probed for years now. It was best he didn't remember. It was best he didn't remember Shane Madej.

"And why don't you want to remember?"

 _Because he hurt me. He hurt me, and he saved me. Because I hated him, and I loved him, and he's gone_. "I just don't."

The bartender nodded, still wiping the glass in hand. "I've heard a lot of stories from folks coming in here, but none quite like yours, I'll admit."

"Are you good at advice?" said Ryan flatly, chin resting in his hand. "Because my friends are useless at it."

"What do they suggest?"

"Ring him. Talk to him." He snorted. "I don't even know if he's _alive_. Maybe he's not!"

The old man picked up another glass to be dried, nodding wisely. "Listen, son. There's some things in life you'll never get over. They're just going to be part of you forever. And it's only on your deathbed when you'll finally face your real feelings."

Ryan nodded slowly, gaze lowered. "Yeah." 

The bartender glanced at the clock. "It's getting late, Ryan. Best you go to bed."

Ryan frowned at him. "You're a bar. It's only half ten."

"The guys who stay in here drinking all night are old boys like me," smiled the bartender sadly. "You're still young. Too young to be carrying all that grief. But also too young to resort to the drink." He put the clean glass down. "And maybe consider _actual_ therapy."

Ryan knew he was right, giving him a moody frown anyway. He'd only had one drink, but it was best he did as the man said. It made sense. Barry always made sense. So he left, and even on the short walk to his apartment, he knew he didn't have a chance at falling asleep. 

He used one hand to unwrap his scarf as he entered his apartment, shrugged off his coat, threw his hat aside. Then he went to his desk, taking out the separate files from each case he was working. A few were irrelevant. But some of them... He closed his eyes, hesitating, the files in hand. _It’s behind you now, Ryan. You’re just paranoid_. He bit his lip hard, fingers tapping the pages agitatedly. _It’s not them. You’re just paranoid. Right?_

He sat down, flipping to the profiles of the victims. Each one was killed a different way, but they all looked relatively familiar. Blurry faces in his memory, but still there. He switched on his laptop, going back to the article about the string of murders in Perth. Once again, all familiar, in a way that made his skin crawl. He sat back, folding his arms across his chest, his heart thumping uncomfortably hard. He sat forwards again, scanning the pages in front of him.

It was early in the morning, so early it was still dark out, day disguised as night. Ryan knew he should be asleep. But the trick of sleeping had escaped him for the last five years. So he did what he did whenever his memories kept him awake for hours on end; he laid into the punching bag down in the apartment gym, wore himself out, until he was too tired to even think. Then he’d drag himself back upstairs, and it would feel more like passing out than falling asleep. Sometimes it would take a while. Most of the time, it would take a while.

He steadied the heavy bag, feeling the leather under his fingers as he rested his head against it. It used to hurt at the beginning, it used to hurt his hands. But he’d been taking lessons for a few years now, and he’d come to see that he was actually pretty good at fighting, for someone who would never have considered themselves a fighter. He took up the classes as a precaution more than anything else; if anyone ever tried to take him again, there was no way he was going to just go with them. Like with Goldsworth. When Goldsworth half-killed him, when he- When he-

The bag swung as Ryan started back up again, not stopping until he was panting for breath, covered in sweat, sticking his t-shirt to his skin. He pulled the fingerless gloves off as he sat on the nearest bench, burying his face in his hands, heart racing. He wasn’t sure what the cause was; the boxing, or the thoughts. The thoughts of that night, of the pain, the fear. And Shane. Ryan let his hands rub down his face, his eyes appearing over them, staring at nothing. 

It looked like he wasn’t going to sleep at all tonight. 

Ryan left the lights off as he went back into his apartment, taking his phone from his pocket, frowning at the email that had flashed up on screen. 

 _horsley.h@hhorsleysolicitors.com_.

He blinked, bringing it closer to his eyes, wondering if this was some sort of fever dream. And since he probably wasn’t going to sleep anyway, he opened up the tantalizing email.

_Ryan,_

_Hope you’re doing okay. If you wouldn’t mind meeting me at my offices tomorrow, that would be great. I have a proposal and I need a PI I can trust._

_Regards,_

_Holly Horsley._

Ryan stared at the screen for a long moment before locking it, staring at the wall. “Hope you’re doing okay?” He looked back at the darkened screen. “I haven’t seen you in five years!”

_Holly,_

_I’m doing great. And I’d like to keep it that way. So I’m going to decline your offer._

_Ryan._

A reply was almost instant, just as he’d sat into bed. He stared at the screen, one eye narrowed, wondering if he expected any of the people from his past to wander back in so… casually. 

_Ryan,_

_I really think you’d like to hear what I have to say. If not I’ll come to you._

_H._

He shook his head as he typed.

_I’m fine as I am._

_R._

He placed his phone aside, rolling over, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. The phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother really trying to resist. And the words sent a harsh shock through his body.

_It’s about Shane._

_H_.

Ryan blinked a few times, the phone suddenly feeling very heavy indeed. He wasn’t sure whether or not to reply. He closed his eyes, thinking of all the times in the past five years he’d thought about Shane. How many time he’d wondered if he was okay, if he was happy. How many times he’d gotten drunk with his friends, and they’d become enraptured in the story of what had happened. How he wished he’d just be able to see him, even just in the street. Some sort of closure. Anything. 

_I don’t think I can._

_R_.

Ryan placed his phone aside, burying his face in the pillow, his heart racing. Shane was in LA this whole time? Was he working with Horsley? Were they up to their usual illegal dealings? But Ryan wasn’t a cop anymore. He was a PI. He could work for who he wanted. But did he want to get involved with them again? Did he want to see Shane again? His mind was racing, he was the most awake he'd been in years.

_I think you should. I will buy you flights to O'Hare for tomorrow. I will collect you. We can talk in the car._

_H._

Ryan sat upright, the phone light shining off his eyes. Flights? Chicago? How serious was this? Was Shane hurt? Was he in danger? Ryan placed the phone aside, getting out of bed, crossing to the kitchen, boiling the kettle for coffee. His phone buzzed again a few minutes later. Flight details. Horsley must have taken his silence as acceptance. He took a deep breath, realizing he was shaking. One email. One email and suddenly it was all back in his head. Shane. Shane was from Chicago. Horsley's in Chicago. Horsley wanted Ryan to come to Chicago, to talk about Shane. The idea, the thought of seeing him again was overwhelming. He felt sick. 

He didn't sleep. He didn't even rest. He stayed up all night, and waited to catch the most ominous flight he'd ever have to catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/iAs0xcSKvqs
> 
> credits/a teeny bit of a spoiler


	2. Warlord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Never shall I forget that night, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed… Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never.”_

Ryan sat in the back seat, just a whole lot uncomfortable. The engine whirred, the driver was a robot of a man. Horsley sat at the opposite window, cradling a small glass of whiskey. He could feel her studying him from behind her wire-framed glasses, still just as sharp as she always was. He spared her a hesitant smile. She didn't return it.

"You have scars," she stated. "From Goldsworth?"

He raised a hand to touch the one across his jaw, gaze lowering. It was a small one, a pale line, matching the one on his cheekbone, the one across the bridge of his nose. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, from... him."

She took a sip of her drink, entirely relaxed. "I never heard exactly what he did to you."

Ryan turned his head away. "No point asking me. I don't remember."

Horsley nodded, almost understandingly. "I have some bad news, Ryan. I think I should just tell you now."

He looked at her, feeling the chill go through him at the words. "Yeah?"

"Shane's dead." She continued, waving her drink knowledgeably. "Dead, or missing, either way he's M.I.A. Has been for the past five years."

Ryan stared. He stared at her, then at the seat in front of him, then out the window. Then at nothing. "Oh."

He wasn't surprised, really. The thought had always been in the back of his mind. Shane Madej doesn't just _vanish_. Not for no reason. For now, he was numb to it. But the thoughts would break into his mind later; the how's, the why's, the possibilities of the way in which Shane had died, or been taken. His first reaction now was to find him, to search for him. But he knew there was no point, really. Hunting Shane down back in Australia had been a hard task, and he'd only managed it in the end because of his coworkers. He closed his eyes. He'd let go of a lot when he moved back home, but if he'd stayed, he would've had to let go of more.

"I'm sorry," said Horsley. Her voice sounded oddly strained. Maybe she was trying not to cry. "He... was a good man."

"No he wasn't." Ryan made a sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh. "He was a total dick."

She spared a rare smile. "Well if there's ever a eulogy, you can do it."

"He told me he wouldn't want a funeral," said Ryan quietly, still not entirely convinced the guy was dead. Shane Madej didn't just _die_. Or maybe he did. "He told me to just throw his body into the street and let the dogs have it."

"Sounds like Shane."

"Yeah." He went quiet again, watching the world go by. "Is anyone else still alive?"

"Do you remember Francesca?" 

"No. I didn't meet her."

"Ah." She paused. "And McClintock."

He turned his head at the name, a dark look in his eyes. "Yes. I remember him."

"He wants to apologize," she continued, as if she didn't notice the deep anger in his stare. "But he's in the hospital for the next few days. Heart problems." _Due to stress_.

A pause. "Right."

The rest of the drive was made in silence. They stopped outside a stout red-brick building, small but impressive. Horsley's place of business. Ryan followed her inside, feeling more like he was going through the airport than going through the door to a solicitor's office.

"What's with all the security?" He noted each one; bulletproof glass on the security guard's stall, a metal detector, two men at the door, armed to the teeth. "It's, uh, it's a lot."

"Just a precaution." 

The guards opened the side entrance to let them skip the detector, nodding with a respectful 'Ms Horsley'. Her office was at the back of the building, hidden away, windowless. Ryan closed the door after them, and the sounds from outside ceased. He knocked the glass; bulletproof, too. He frowned.

"You get a lot of dodgy clients or something?"

She poured herself a drink, then one for Ryan. "No. Just a precaution."

Horsley took a seat at her desk, gesturing for Ryan to do the same. Her record player sat in the corner, on its own table. The sight of it made Ryan feel a sudden flood of nostalgia. He sipped his whiskey, closing his eyes. 

"I'm sure you've heard of Dexter."

Ryan lifted his gaze, eyebrows raised. "The serial killer that the cops are after? I've read a bit."

Horsley nodded. "Mm. There was a murder around the corner from here, only two days ago."

"Shit, really?"

"Yes. And I really can't have that. It drives away business." She looked at him, long and hard. "I want you to help the chief find the killer. I know the chief, his name is C.C. Tinsley. He could do with some help. A fresh set of eyes."

Ryan lowered his glass. "You want me to find a serial killer for you."

"Yes." She rolled her eyes. "I know there's some conflict in the media about him; is he really a bad guy if he's just killing criminals, and all of that."

"Hence the name 'Dexter'." Ryan snorted. "Who came up with that nickname?"

Horsley didn't laugh. "This is very important to me, Ryan Bergara. I hope you'll say yes."

He paused. "I don't know. I have a lot of-"

"It'll be very good pay. _Very_ good," she emphasized. "And I'll provide accommodation for you, of course. In the center of the city. Rent paid monthly, by me."

Ryan stared at her for a moment. "I guess I could help."

"I thought you would." 

She took a set of keys from her pocket, apartment keys. She gave them to him. She gave him directions. It was all planned to perfection. Ryan was never going to say no, not if she stunned him with the news of Shane's death first. And it worked. He took the keys, and thanked her, and left. He felt detached from himself, his body moving automatically, unaware of each step. 

The apartment was impressive. Fuck that, it was stunning. A beautiful cityscape view, floor-to-ceiling windows, it was something else. Ryan stared at his new surroundings, placing the keys down gently on the kitchen table. He didn't want to scratch it. Everything looked incredibly fragile. He went to the nearest window, lightly placing a hand on it. He didn't even want to think of the price of the rent. He pulled his sleeve up over his hand to wipe away his fingerprints from the glass. Then he remembered it was his now. He placed his hand on it again.

The fridge was stocked, mainly healthy food.

"Jesus, am I on a diet now too?" he muttered, hands on his hips. "Where's the fucking tasty shit?"

He got the sudden feeling that Horsley had something in mind for him, something she was preparing him for. He ignored the feeling, knowing it was just him being suspicious. The feeling was reignited minutes later as he wandered upon a small private gym. He stood in the doorway, a frown on his face.

"What the fuck?" 

It was then he realized. For now, and for however long it took him to find this killer, Horsley owned him. He wandered to the punching bag, giving it a light push. Maybe it wasn't even that bad. And if this worked out, Horsley could be an invaluable client for him. Yeah. Yeah, maybe it would be okay.

Dexter's past murders were splashed across the media. Ryan read into each one, just to get a grip, a proper grip on what he was about to delve into. Each one was killed a different way, but they all looked strangely familiar. Blurry faces in his memory, but still there. Familiar in a way that made his skin crawl. That's why he'd stopped reading the articles, stopped keeping up-to-date. Reading them made his old injuries hurt; his leg, his arm, his ribs.

_Cause of death: Strangulation._

_Cause of death: Drowning._

_Cause of death: Brain damage._

_Cause of death: Bullet through right side of skull._

_Cause of death: Cardiac arrest as a result of extreme physical discomfort._

The last one stood out. Not just because it was by far one of the most violent ones, but because it was the face that flipped the switch in Ryan’s head. He could remember the man’s voice simply from seeing his heavy-set face. 

_“Probably a pigeon, boss!”_

Ryan sat stone still, eyes wide. The memories threatened to swell forward, to drown him. He sat back, rubbing a hand over his mouth. It probably didn't meant anything. A mob war, most likely. He closed his laptop before he could read on, closing his eyes. Then he got to his feet, deciding that having the punching bag so close was actually a great idea. 

* * *

The rain was a quiet chorus echoing lightly outside, against concrete, against tin roofs, against the car windshield. The wipers were off. The car was still. Neither of them spoke. Her fingers tapped agitatedly against the steering wheel, but she wasn’t exactly in disapproval of what was going to happen. She was just uncomfortable with it. Any average person would be.

“You’re just going to walk straight in?”

“Yes.” He was still staring out the window, at the blurred lights of the building, rippling as the rain poured down the glass. “And then I’m going to walk straight out.”

“Nothing in between?”

A pause. “Nothing in between.”

Sara watched him push open the car door, pull his jacket hood up against the rain as he stepped out. She couldn’t see his face as he strode towards the entrance, but she was certain he didn’t look back. He never did. And he definitely wouldn’t this time. This one had been top of his list for a long, long time. The cold light that had been in his eyes as they drove over had been terrifying; a disturbing excitement. Bloodthirsty. She turned on the radio, tried to distract herself from the now. But in the hospital, all that mattered was the now. The now, and the past.

“Who are you here to see?” asked the receptionist, who seemed half asleep.

“McClintock,” he said, nice and clear. “Bernard McClintock.”

“And you are a relative?”

“Son,” he smiled, wiping a drop of rain off the tip of his pointy nose. “I was going to surprise him.”

The reception smiled at this.  _How cute_ , she thought.  _How cute, and kind, and thoughtful this man is_. She directed him to the room, and went back to her work with a chirpier attitude.  _Maybe the world isn’t so bad_ , she thought.

McClintock was awake. He was sat up, on his phone, his green eyes watching the screen. Completely unaware as to the man observing through the slatted blind, like a hungry tiger through blades of grass. McClintock only looked up when the door closed, his easy jollity immediately dropping from his face. He stared at his unexpected visitor in silence, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. Fearful.

“Evening.” Shane locked the door behind him, letting his hand rest on it as he continued taking in the image of McClintock. Real. So real. And so close. “Banjo.” He moved away from the door, hands in his pockets as he crossed the floor towards the bed. “Can I still call you that? I know we’re not exactly buds anymore.”

McClintock attempted to speak, finding his mouth too dry. He swallowed. “I- I- How did you find me?”

"Oh, I've been on your tail for a while now, Banjo." The way he said his name was coated in venom. "But finding your name in public records? I could've cried."

The other man stared at him, frozen still. Maybe if he didn't move, this animal wouldn't leap forwards and tear his throat from his body.

“Banjo.” Shane sat down in the chair beside the bed, still not taking his eyes from the other man. “Don’t look so scared. I’m not going to kill you.”

“Yes you are.”

“No. I’m not.” Shane was still staring at him, intense, feeling the anger rise in him despite himself. “Not yet.”

McClintock sat more upright in the bed, clearly very much uncomfortable as he convinced both himself and Shane that he was safe. "You can't kill me here. It's a hospital. The cops will arrive in seconds."

Shane watched him, his face stony, icy with anger. "The Feds won't mind. They spill more blood than the rest of us combined, at the end of the day."

He reached over, easily taking the phone from Banjo's hand, dropping it into the jug of water beside the bed. Bubbles rose from it as it bounced at the bottom, screen flickering. Then he simply sat, seeing Banjo grow more and more uneasy, his eyes flickering to the door, to the nurse's button beside the bed. He was terrified. He was terrified, and it made Shane feel very, _very_ good.

"You know the deal, right?"

Banjo couldn't seem to look him straight in the eye, staring at him sidelong. A prickling sensation went up his spine at the words. "What?"

"The business." Shane's voice was low, and bitter, the restrained fury just tangible. "The business we're in. You know how rough it can be."

The heart monitor picked up, beeping rapidly. "Sh- Shane-"

"Pretty grim, right?"

"Shane, I did what I did because-"

The taller man reached over, took a tight hold of Banjo's hand, so tight it hurt. The heart monitor leaped, the green line firing up and down. Shane got to his feet, still holding Banjo's hand in a crushing grip. He leaned down, forcing the man to look him in the eye.

"I'm fond of you. Really, I am." Shane tightened his grip as Banjo tried to pull away, hearing the man's rapid breaths. "But at the end of the day, business is business, isn't it." He placed a hand on the back of the hospital bed, leaning in over the man, the heart monitor beginning to squeal out a warning for medical attendance. "I'm going to kill you for what you did to me, Bernard. I'm going to find you, and I'm going to burn you alive."

He then left. He let the nurses hurry past to the room, continuing on towards the doors, striding out into the rain. His own heart was racing, from excitement, from the fear he had sparked to life in the other man. And it was exhilarating. He sat in beside Sara, pulling his hood back, running a hand through his hair. She pulled away from the hospital, quickly checking for any signs of blood on him. Not this time. He didn't speak. He stared out the window, gaze distant, fingers resting across his mouth. He was finding them. One by one, he was finding them. Tracking them down, like a hunter after a scared herd of deer. And he had come to realize that he was a brilliant hunter. A born one.

"Well?" Sara finally spoke, raising an eyebrow at him. "Is it home now, or what?"

He sat back in his seat, stretching leisurely. "Yeah. I'm kinda tired."

Shane went out to their balcony when they finally got home. He lit a cigarette, a habit he'd picked up in an attempt to satisfy the urges that had gripped him years ago. It hadn't worked. There was only one thing that could satisfy him now, that could keep the sadness from swallowing him whole. Even still, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He swiftly wiped them away, cursing himself for being so emotional at a time when he should be celebrating. But Banjo had been like a father to him, he'd been his favorite out of his clients. And then he'd betrayed him, in a way that hurt more than Shane could've possibly imagined. He took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke out slowly, thinking about what he was going to do to the man. And the sadness was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/Es3_1D53eOE
> 
> yeahhhh credits music


	3. I Met A Man Who Wasn't There

_**Two Weeks Later.** _

"Holy shit."

Ryan pulled his jumper up to cover his nose. The air smelled like gasoline, and burning - burnt hair, burnt clothes, burnt flesh. And when his eyes landed on the source, his stomach flipped. He followed Tinsley towards the charred mess in the center of the sitting room. It was like a scribbled silhouette, burned beyond recognition. One of the forensics team hurried over, a chart in hand. 

"The victim has burned-out restrains on wrists and ankles." The words were muffled through her fabric mask. "Looking like another homicide. Definitely not accidental, anyway."

"Jesus." Tinsley took off his hat - it was an old style fedora, straight from the 40s. "No other damage around the place?"

"Nope. Carpet removed from under the chair, furniture all pushed back. Only aim was to kill the guy, it seems."

"And any ID on this unfortunate soul?"

The woman glanced at her chart. "Well, the apartment belongs to a Bernard McClintock. There was signs of forced entry on the door, and it looked like he was packing for a vacation or something. And he didn't..."

Ryan zoned out, staring at the stiff body on the blackened chair. _Banjo_. He moved towards it, still holding his jumper over his nose and mouth. _Banjo McClintock. What were you doing here?_ He accepted a pair of gloves from another white-suited figure, rolling them on. Then he tilted back the head, trying not to let the bile rise in his throat. The blackened skin crackled under his fingers, he could feel the bone under it. The face was unrecognizable. But that didn't matter. The remains of the clothing left stuck to the body were enough. He brushed lightly at the section of waistcoat left; a bright, garish pattern. Ryan straightened up, blinking rapidly. _Banjo McClintock. How does an art dealer get into this shit?_ He took his phone, excusing himself to go back out into the corridor. The smell was still lingering, but not as bad. He could almost convince himself it was a barbecue. 

The phone was answered after two rings. "Horsley speaking."

"Yeah, it's Ryan." He swallowed. "The body was McClintock. Banjo McClintock."

A stunned silence. "I see."

He frowned at the restrained fear in her voice, the first time he'd ever heard such an emotion come from her mouth. "Yeah... Do you want to know how?"

It sounded like she was moving now, hurriedly, rustling clothes in the background. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I should."

"It looks like he was burned alive." He closed his eyes. "Well, no, yeah. He was burned alive. It was premeditated. Gasoline, restraints, his apartment was definitely picked on purpose." A pause. "I'm sorry."

He heard a car door shut, an engine start. "Tell Tinsley I want his body cremated. Fully. As soon as possible. And buried somewhere private."

Ryan once again found himself concerned at the underlying panic. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." The engine revved loudly. "Yes. But I have to go. Keep me updated."

Ryan went back in, hovering in the background. It was strange. He could essentially do what he wanted, look at what he wanted, with no one on his back. Tinsley was listening to the forensic team, his face looking quite disturbed. Ryan decided to have a look around himself, to make use of his relative freedom, pulling the plastic gloves tighter on his hands. He moved around the walls, looking at the light layer of ash. He traced a finger through it, rubbing it together. The same ash lay on the surrounding furniture, which had been pushed back against the wall to avoid catching fire itself. Ryan wandered along the furniture, stopping at the armchair. It was strangely free of ash, only a very light layer left on it. Ryan leaned in closer, careful not to touch it. Half the arms were the same, lightly ashed, like someone had been resting their arms on it. Like someone had been sitting, watching the fire. Watching the man being burnt. Ryan swallowed hard, straightening up.

"Tinsley!" He gestured for him to come over, nodding at the furniture. "Looks like McClintock wasn't alone."

He let the forensics take over, moving back to McClintock's body. It was downright gruesome. Ryan moved back towards Tinsley, pausing to mutter that he was getting a coffee. He needed a bit of space. This was a big career jump for him, and he was beginning to wonder if he was in a bit too deep for his liking.

The café was just across the street from the condos, a Starbucks. He breathed in the warmth, the smell, took comfort in the babbling voices around him. Then he froze. 

"Sara?"

The woman glanced around at her name, two coffees in hand. For a moment, it was like she didn't recognize him. Then a wave of horror came over her face, sloppily disguised with delight.

"Oh- Oh my God." She turned to him, looking him up and down, eyes wide. "Bergara? Ryan Bergara?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I- Wow." He moved forwards, unsure of exactly what to do. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, but it was a reflex. "Jesus. What the hell are you doing in Chicago?" _What the hell is everyone doing in Chicago?_

"I live here. I live here now." She still seemed stunned, searching his face, her gaze lingering on the scars. "Wow. It really is you."

"I know." He spread his arms, a little hesitant. "I lived! Surprise!"

She didn't laugh. He dropped his arms. 

"Have you- Have you been here long?" she asked, stone still. 

"Uh, no. Not even a month yet." He scratched the back of his neck; now he was really regretting saying hello. "Huh. You seem a bit mind-blown."

"...Word is that you died." She said it slowly, hesitantly. "Everyone thinks you're dead."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, yeah. I'm alive." He paused. "I heard about Shane. I'm sorry. I know you guys were friends."

She shook her head in bewilderment. "Wait, what did you hear about him?"

He frowned. "That he's missing or something?"

"Oh. Ha. Uh, yeah." She suddenly looked at the coffees in hand, shoving one at him. "Here, take this. As a 'well done on being alive' gift."

He laughed, taking it, feeling the heat through his gloves. "Oh, thanks. Thanks, Sara."

"No problem." She didn't move, as if waiting for him to leave. So, with a small smile, he left. And he could feel her staring at him the entire time.

He examined the name on the cup as he wandered back down the street, waiting for the road to become relatively clear. _Snan? Sran? Smane?_ He rolled his eyes; baristas couldn't even spell 'Sara' now, it seemed.

* * *

He stared up the building, at the apartment a few stories up. He took a sip of his coffee, the heat in his mouth almost as comforting as the heat he'd felt a few nights ago, in the very apartment he was now looking at. Apparently the cops had arrived, someone had finally reported the strange smell. McClintock was always an idiot that way; yes, he lived in a ridiculously expensive apartment, but because of that, he had little to no neighbors. Little to no witnesses. Shane smiled over his cup, a devilish one. He quickly hid it, realizing he was sitting in a very public place indeed. Better not start smirking at an unsolved crime scene.

"You wanna leave?" asked Sara. She seemed panicked, ever since she came to the table. "Wanna go get food? I'm starving. Hey, wanna go to the park? Hm?"

He gave her a sidelong frown. "What is this? You're trying to make up for the fact you forgot to get me a coffee at first?"

"But I got you another one!" She smiled, a wide one. "C'mon. Let's go!"

He ignored her. "Just a few more minutes. I want to see who's investigating this one."

She snorted. "Screw that though, right? You can- You can just go to the Hall tomorrow! Ask there!"

He looked at her. Then he looked back outside; it was getting dark, he supposed. The streetlights had been turned on. "Well, if you _really_ don't want to stay, then that's okay."

He got to his feet, following Sara to the door; she was practically running, pulling her hat on over her wild curls, trapping them in hair jail. He tugged on his own hat, buttoning up his coat as he followed her down the street at a panicked pace. He lingered behind, throwing one glance over his shoulder at the doors to the condos. People were starting to come out, to file to the cop cars. He could just about make out the chief, Tinsley, his scarf flapping in the icy breeze. The forensics team were obvious too. And there was someone beside Tinsley, an unknown figure. He wandered to a halt, half-turning to watch, to try and make out the distant newcomer. Was this some expert that had been brought in? He'd need to know. He began walking back down the road, hearing Sara calling his name.

"I'll be there in a second!" he said, not quite loud enough for her to hear. 

He strode through the crowd, through the media personnel beginning to swarm towards the doors of the condos. He peered over their heads, trying to catch the newbie. Maybe he was just a rookie, but he'd have to make sure. There was always a chance he could be a real threat to him. He went to step forwards, a cop suddenly appearing from behind a news van, giving him a little push.

"No further, pal," she said, allowing room for the crime scene tape to start being rolled out behind her. "This is an official homicide scene now. No entry to the public."

Shane gave her a distracted glance, still observing what he could see; the cop cars were beginning to pull away, the forensics van backing up onto the path, looking like it was being set down for a while now. Shane walked away from the crowd, watching the cars drive away down the street, sirens screeching. He took a sip of coffee, raising an eyebrow. His phone started buzzing, he took it out absent-mindedly, answering it.

"Yeah?"

He raised his head at the voice, eyes widening slightly. They widened even more with the words being said, sending chills up his spine in all the right ways. He turned away, heading the opposite direction to the scene. And he struck a valuable deal indeed.

* * *

Ryan squinted at the rear view mirror, at the tall figure that had parted from the crowd. He sat forwards a bit, the figure standing in his long black coat, a hand in his pocket, the other holding a white coffee cup. He felt his heart skip a beat, turning in his seat to look out the rear window. But whoever it was had turned away, talking into their phone, strolling the opposite direction. Ryan hummed pensively, settling back down in his seat. He looked at the name on his coffee cup again, eyes narrowed.

"Hey, Tinsley." He pushed the cup towards him. "What do you think that says?"

Tinsley gave it a quick glance, a dark eyebrow raised. "Well it definitely doesn't say Ryan, anyway."

"Yeah, but what do you think it says?"

Another quick glance, eyes narrowing. "Swan? Jesus, uh, does it say Swon? I have no idea."

Ryan took it back, giving it another long, suspicious look. He turned in his seat to look at the receding crowd. Then he sat back, and continued drinking his coffee. No, not his coffee. Sara's coffee. Sara Rubin, standing in a café in Chicago, alone, but with two coffees. He bit his lip, and gripped the cup tight, and barred the gates of his memory.

* * *

Horsley burst into Norris' offices, the most flustered and unkempt Francesca had ever seen her; her grey hair was actually out of place for once, her glasses balanced precariously at the end of her nose. Norris got to her feet, immediately knowing that something was wrong. That something was terribly, terribly wrong. She sat Horsley down, handed her a glass of water, and instead of taking the seat across the desk, she sat down beside her. Holly Horsley was a master of self-restraint, so she really had to be rattled to be showing her state of mind so clearly. Norris waited for her to catch her breath. 

"Banjo," she panted, finally pushing her glasses up her nose, her steely eyes for once seeming watery. "Banjo's dead. He found him."

Norris stared at her, eyes wide. "What? How? How do you know?"

"Bergara told me." She took another shaky sip of water. "He was burned to death, Fran. Burned. Like a goddamn sacrifice."

"Like a goddamn warning, more like." Norris sat back in her chair, the two of them staring at nothing together. "What have we done."

"We've brought an evil upon us like the world has never seen," she replied quietly.

Norris glanced at her. "Damn, Shakespeare. Like, Mood, but okay."

Horsley stood up, placing her glass of water down, beginning to pace as she thought. "We might need to crack out the kryptonite earlier than I thought."

"Yeah? You sure it'll throw him off?"

"You didn't see what they were like together." Horsley gave the other woman a bitter smile. "Soulmates, if I dare say. I'd never seen Shane act the way he did when he was around Bergara."

Norris winced slightly at Shane's name. "Shh."

"Shh?" Horsley rolled her eyes. "He's not Voldemort, Fran. He won't appear in this room just because I said his name."

The two of them went silent at the thought, at the thought of Shane bursting through the door, at the thought of Death riding in on a pale horse. Horsley sat down again, hands clasped on her knees.

"I'll give Bergara the address tomorrow." Norris nodded to herself, crossing her legs as she sat back in her chair. "Tell him to meet me in my City Hall office as soon as he has the time. I'll sort it out from there."

Horsley nodded, still silent. "We can't run anymore, Fran. This is it now."

Norris swallowed, the two of them staring at each other. "The last stand, is it?"

"Mm." Horsley got to her feet, going to the window, fixing her reflection; smoothing down her hair, adjusting her coat. "But we've got the nuclear bomb in this war."


	4. The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"And once she was in bed she said 'What a fine night!_   
>  _What a good walk!_   
>  _I knew the wolf wouldn't find me!'_   
>  _'Oh but you must travel through those woods again and again' said a shadow at the window._   
>  _'And you must be lucky to avoid the wolf every time. But the wolf..._   
>  _The wolf only needs enough luck to find you once'."_

Shane hadn't gone mad. He knew he hadn't gone mad. If he'd gone mad, he'd be killing randomly, erratically, with no regard for the consequences. No, Shane premeditated each bit of personal justice he'd taken. Enough so that the media only started linking the murders after five years. He knew the day would come, it was inevitable. It was also most definitely worth it. 

He stood watching the television, hands on his hips, lips pressed together in a firm line. It still had him shaken, hearing him being proclaimed a serial killer. Well, the media didn't know it was _him_. No, it was 'Dexter'. But he knew it was him. He was a bit relieved that it made him feel uncomfortable. And the general public almost seemed to be behind him, with various people saying he was 'cleansing the city' or 'doing what the law should be doing'. He continued watching, waiting to hear what they would say about Banjo, waiting to see how they would treat him, how they would make this jolly man look the innocent flower. 

"Bernard 'Banjo' McClintock had just arrived in Chicago a week before his untimely death," the news reporter was saying, her eyes solemn, face serious, the backdrop of the entrance to the condos even more so. "And was a well-traveled connoisseur of art. He was found dead in his apartment-"

She was cut off as Shane suddenly paused the television, eyes wide. He rewinded it a few seconds, playing it again. Another pause. He moved towards the television, hand resting on top of it, eyes inches from the screen. He rewinded it again. Let it play. Paused it. He swallowed hard, doing it one more time. Just in case any clarity would magically take over the broadcast. 

It was Tinsley, in the background, facing the camera, talking to a group of people in front of him. A group of cops. Except one. He stood a bit to the side, a hand on his hip, head turned to look up at the apartments. He held a coffee in his other gloved hand. Shane played it until the setting changed, rewinding it, watching it again. The light hurt his eyes, but he didn't care. He would've burned his retinas right off if he could get an answer to the question screaming in his head. 

The man was relatively short. His hat and scarf covered what was shown of his face, just a side-on view. But the stance, the way he inclined his head as Tinsley spoke to him, the way he gestured with his coffee, the way his laugh seemed to elicit giggles in the rest gathered. It had Shane feeling very, very unstable all of a sudden. He straightened back up, playing the broadcast all the way through, watching, watching for a glimpse of the man's face. If it was the man he thought it had been. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Shane was used to that.  

"What are you looking at?" 

Shane turned his head to stare at Sara, still looking a bit stunned. "Uh, news. Looking at the news."

She nodded, lips pursed. "Cool. Anything interesting?"

 _Maybe. Maybe, I don't know_. "Nah. Just the usual."

Sara stayed quiet as Shane turned off the television, chucked the remote onto the couch as he passed by, headed straight out to the balcony. The place he'd go to think, to mull things over. To plan. She knew he was a little bit off now. Ever since that night, he'd been different. Scarier, more intense, more regardless of peoples' feelings. She'd watched him grow harder, stronger, both mentally and physically. It was an unsettling process to watch. On the plane, he'd spent half the flight in tears, inconsolable. Then he'd simply switched. Silent, his reddened eyes glued to the sky outside, the hatred already palpable. Yes, he'd cracked that night. But not in a sad way. No, he'd cracked like a glowstick, except what lit up within him was seething rage. He didn't have any interest in laundering money now. His interests had changed entirely. His unrelenting determination hadn't.

"Hey," she said quietly, lingering in the doors to the balcony, watching him light up a cigarette. "You okay?"

He nodded distractedly. "Yeah. Fine."

"You want tea or anything?"

The sentence didn't seem to register with him. He nodded again. "Yeah. Cool. Thanks."

* * *

"It's personal. It's all personal."

Tinsley looked at him, dark eyebrows knotted. "Why do you think that?"

"It's not just random styles," said Ryan, eyes still scanning the board in front of them. "It's like- It's like there's levels or something. The majority of them were just shot, right?"

Tinsley blinked. Then he nodded slowly, turning his eyes to the wall. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"And then the second most-used style is drowning. Which is a bit more, uh, grim, right?"

"Right."

"And then it just gets worse and worse." He gestured at the various, graphic pictures. "I mean, that guy was just- just _tortured_ to death, basically. And then McClintock, he was fucking burnt alive." Ryan began rearranging the relevant photos, and it swiftly began to take the vague shape of a pyramid, building up from the bottom, the pins pushing into the board as he lined them up. He stepped back once he was done. "See? The higher you go on this, the more personal the deaths seem."

Tinsley was staring at him in open amazement. "Well shit, Bergara. Now I know why Horsley demanded I hire you and no one else."

"And every single one of them has a criminal background," continued Ryan, now in a world of his own. Yeah, he was good at this. He'd always been good at it, at piecing together the puzzles. "But it's clearly not a good guy doing this to help society. It's someone doing it for their own... satisfaction, maybe? Some sort of personal justice?"

"Vengeance?"

Ryan swallowed, a bit irritated that Tinsley had gone ahead and said it. Not because he was wrong. No, no, he was right. He was very right. And Ryan wasn't stupid. Something was beginning to add up in his head, and it made him feel uneasy. It made him feel positively sick. _Was that you? Was that you outside Banjo's apartments? Or was it me just seeing ghosts again?_ He scanned the photos one more time, the dead men and women, some vaguely recognizable, others not. _Shit, I hope it wasn't you_. 

"Maybe vengeance." Ryan distractedly rubbed at the scar on his jaw, gaze distant. "If it is, I wonder what these people did to deserve it."

"Must've pissed off whoever it is a lot."

Ryan nodded, eyes fixed on the photo of Banjo's charred remains. He heard Tinsley leave, shrug his coat on, close the door once he realized he wasn't being followed. Ryan stepped forwards, checking the photos again. Each and every one. He wasn't there. The one person that would confirm his suspicions, confirm them beyond any doubt. Ryan took out his phone, gave the name a quick Google. Nothing out of the ordinary. Still an elusive madman. Ryan stared at the accompanying image, the heat flooding through him, the anger rising in his chest. The cold blue eyes, fixed on the camera, looking right at him. Ryan stared back for a long moment, as if Ricky could even see him. He'd never gone after Goldsworth, never joined the manhunt that occurred after what had happened. He told himself it was because he wasn't a vengeful person, that he wasn't vindictive. But the truth was that if Ricky was going to face the consequences for what he'd done, then he wanted those consequences done right. Jail was too clean for him. Ryan locked his phone, shoving it back into his pocket as quickly as he shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind.

And out to replace them came memories. A memory from eight years ago now. Eight long years.

* * *

_"No, no, of course. Come on in." Shane waved a hand at the seats in front of him. "Make yourselves at home."_

_Helen smiled at this. Ryan didn't. Helen took a seat. Ryan didn't. He wandered to the bookshelves instead, head tilted slightly as he scoured the titles. The silence was a bit of a surprised one._

_"Sorry, detective. If my seats aren't good enough for you."_

_Ryan glanced at the man over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. "I'm sure you can talk without me for a few minutes."_

_Shane stared back over his glasses, raising a hand to push the frames up so he could see the detective more clearly. "I might find it a bit distracting if you're wandering around while I'm trying to explain my situation."_

_Ryan shrugged his inconsideration, already focused on the bookshelves again. "That's very sad."  
_

_He heard a sharp laugh, not exactly entertained. But impressed. "Right. I get it."_

_Helen went ahead and started chatting away, allowing Ryan to continue his attempt at unsettling the 'accountant'. It seemed to be working. Shane's gaze kept flickering to watch him, eyes narrowed, his answers distracted, half-assed. Ryan finally took a book from a shelf, opening it, closing it with a snap. Shane turned his seat to look at him in the middle of a sentence, one arm still resting on the desk._

_"If you're looking for a secret passage, it's the third book on the top shelf that's the lever," said Shane irritably. "I'll even give you a boost, detective."_

_Ryan placed the book back sloppily, seeing Shane's jaw set. "Please, call me Ryan."_

_"I don't partake in getting familiar with law enforcement," he replied dryly, an eyebrow raised. "Sorry if that's a disappointment. Detective."_

_Ryan moved to a filing cabinet along the wall, and he was actually stunned at the speed in which Shane was out of his chair and by his side. The taller man's hand landed on the drawer Ryan had half-pulled out, shoving it closed again, the drawer scraping against the metal as harshly as their gazes scraped off each other. Ryan kept his hand on the drawer. So did Shane._

_"Is there a problem here?" asked Ryan, glaring up at him._

_Shane spoke quietly. "Warrant."_

_"Hm? What was that?"_

_"Show me your warrant to search the premises." Shane turned to face him, Ryan having to turn sideways to stop their bodies hitting off each other. "Then I'll let you into my filing cabinet of illegal accounts."_

_"Did you-" Ryan saw the hint of a smirk on the taller man's mouth. "Right. Funny."_

_The wry smile took over, Shane taking a step forwards, forcing the shorter man away from the cabinet. "So no warrant, hm?"_

_Ryan reached into his pocket, taking out a folded sheet of paper. "Right here, pal."  
_

_Shane's smile dropped. He snatched the paper, unfolding it. Then he closed his eyes. "This is a final warning for unpaid parking tickets."_

_"Yeah. I know." Ryan looked him up and down, smiling slyly. "A search warrant certainly had you frazzled, didn't it?"_

_Shane's eyes flickered to meet his over the letter. And there was the spark. The spark of a challenge, of excitement. His half-smile wasn't snide now. It was impressed, mirroring Ryan's. Shane folded the letter back up again, tapping it against the palm of his hand._

_"You know, I could take care of this for you," said Shane casually, not taking his eyes from the shorter man's. "Pretty hefty amount of tickets you've gathered up. But not impossible to... fix."_

_Ryan raised his eyebrows at this blatant bribery. "You know, I heard you were a risk-taker. But has that ever even worked?"_

_Shane stepped around him, wandering over to the shredder as he spoke over his shoulder. "Oh, I was just offering my services, Detective Bergara."_

_"Oh yeah? Well- Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Ryan spoke above the whirring of the shredder, the crunching of paper. "What the fuck, Madej? I needed that!"_

_"Oh, did you? That's just too bad." Shane moved back to stand directly in front of him, hands in his pockets, head tilted condescendingly. "I'm sure you'll get another one in the post within five to six business days. With an extra fee on top, of course. Seeing as you'll be late paying it."_

_Ryan's jaw clenched at the words, just like his fists at his sides. "You can't just-"_

_"And you know, I'm sure my friends at Road Safety will be very happy to help me out with a few reports I have about a certain car," continued Shane, a dismissive eyebrow raised. "What was the registration I saw on that letter again? Oh, I'm sure it'll come back to me if you stay in here for even another fucking minute."_

_Ryan didn't even notice Helen finally stand up, moving towards them. "Don't you fucking threaten me."_

_"It's not a threat," replied Shane coolly. "It's a promise."_

_That's when he'd first realized exactly what he was coming up against. This man was ruthless, even when he was just being petty. Ryan had stormed out of the office, a sight that the employees were soon going to get very used to indeed. Shane had sat back down, and kicked his feet up on the desk, and closed his eyes as he took a quick rest after the stressful encounter. They'd opened again the second the door was slammed open, Ryan striding right back in, straight up to his desk, slamming his hands down on it. Shane stayed relaxed his chair, tilting his head aside to look up at the man with a small smile._

_"Listen here, Madej." He leaned forwards, his eyes_ _glued to Shane's, intense. "I know what you do. I know everything about it. So you can do whatever you want to me but I swear to God I will not stop until you're where you belong. Understand?"_

_Shane let his gaze travel up and down the man's face, lazy. "Aren't you just adorable."_

_Ryan glared at him. "I'll show you adorable, you little-"_

_"Ryan!" Helen had appeared back in the doorway, a warning eyebrow raised. "Come on. The chief's gonna be looking for us."_

_Ryan straightened up with a deep inhale, seeing the cheeky smile on the other man's face. "Stay local, Shane Madej. I'll be looking for you soon."_

_"Mm." Shane watched him leave, a hand resting pensively over his mouth. "I hope for your sake you're not."_

* * *

Goldsworth hurried down the corridor as face as his limp would allow, hugging his coat around himself. He had to leave. He'd heard about McClintock, he'd heard what had been done to him. The thought of getting caught had set a persistent chill in Goldsworth's bones for the last five years, ever since that night. Now the chill was so cold it almost hurt. His men followed him, as silent as always, as desperate to please as always. They were the only thing that had kept him safe. He reached his office, his lavish place of work, waiting outside for one of his other men to open the door. He always had them open doors for him now, taste his food before he ate. Everything was a risk. Everything was dripping with danger. And even though it was his own office, it wasn't safe anymore. Banjo had been murdered in his own home, after all. Nowhere was safe. He waited until he was given the all-clear before heading in, his men waiting by the door for him to get his passport, the last thing he'd need before freedom and relative safety. 

He didn't quite make it to his desk. He slowed to a halt, squinting into the light coming in from the window behind the chair. The high-backed chair, his chair, was facing said window. And someone was sitting in it, someone with thick tousled hair, and who was tall enough for this hair to be seen over the back of the chair. Goldsworth froze in place. He heard the door closing over behind him. His blood turned to ice, despite the fact his heart had started pumping double-time, firing his blood through his veins. 

The chair moved slightly as the occupant stood up, back still to the room. The height, the broad shoulders, the nonchalant flick of his hand as he tossed the passport he'd been holding aside. Goldsworth couldn't move. He couldn't even process his thoughts. Fear had gripped him tight. And if he hadn't been certain already, his nightmares were confirmed as the man turned his head slightly, just enough for the pointy nose to become evident against the brightness of the window. 

"K- Ki-" He was choking on his own panic. "Kill him!" Goldsworth stumbled backwards, his eyes alarmingly wide as Shane finally turned to look at him, a look so fierce he was surprised he wasn't cut in two. "Kill him, you idiots! Someone kill him!"

Nobody went for their guns. No one even moved a finger. Shane circled the desk, still silent, eyes fixed on Ricky's. The anger was still ripe, still hot even after the years that had gone by. Goldsworth went to back away, feeling a hand take hold of his arm, pulling him back. 

"No, no, please," he mumbled, continuing to try and pull away, his own men standing aside, watching passively. "Shane, please. _Please_ , I'll do anything."

The room went quiet, waiting for a response to the desperate pleading. The footsteps were loud against the wood as Shane came closer, hands in his pockets, studying Goldsworth, like a butcher studies a piece of meat. Wondering exactly where to start cutting. He still didn't talk. He didn't have to. His intentions were clear enough already. 

"Pleasepleaseplease." Goldsworth stumbled over his words, held in place by his own men. Well, not his own anymore, it seemed. Hadn't been his own for a while. "Shane, just hear me out, I-"

Shane cut him off, voice sharp. "Hands or tongue."

Goldsworth went still, searching the taller man's face. "What?"

"If you had to keep one," said Shane, voice emotionless. "Would you keep your hands, or your tongue."

A silence. "I- I-"

"Pick one!" snarled the taller man, Ricky instinctively pulling away at the tone, eyes squeezing shut. "Before I choose for you!"

Ricky was hyperventilating, sweat beginning to shine on his face. "I don't know. I don't know. Shane-"

The taller man was looming over him, using his height as an effective means of intimidation. "Fine. I'll choose." He nodded at one of the men holding him, turning away. "Get him out of my sight. And don't even think of laying a finger on him until I'm there."

The door shut. The remaining men hovered around the outside of the room, gazes lowered as they listened to their old employer's receding cries as he was dragged away, to his last stop before hell. Although maybe they were going to be one and the same. Shane gave them all a lingering glare, remembering when he'd last seen them in person; the dark harbor on a muggy night, all of them casually lighting up cigarettes as they stood aside and let what happened happen. There were one or two of them less now. Courtesy of he himself. 

They'd given in, in the end. Sold Goldsworth to him, in return for their lives. A fair deal, perhaps. For now, anyway. McClintock's death had done exactly what Shane had wanted it to do; sent a message. A message to anyone who was listening.

_No one is immune if I don't want them to be._

Shane nonchalantly turned on his heel, strolling back towards the desk. He didn't see Sara appear in the doorway, hesitant, raising an eyebrow at the surprising absence of blood in the room. She watched in silence, watched Shane circle behind the desk. It was a nice one, nice and big, smooth mahogany to match the loaded bookshelves. He placed a hand on it, gentle, fingertips just brushing it. He could feel them all watching him now, watching to see if he would take it. If he would take the position of power only a few feet away from him. And he could. It was his right by conquest, technically. 

Shane lightly placed a hand on the back of the chair, turning it around to face the desk once again. It was a nice leather one, comfy, the same sort Goldsworth had had in Perth. _This isn't necessary._ The voice was quiet in the back of his mind. _You don't need this. You have what you came for. Just leave._  But louder than that voice was Goldsworth's from that night, a jarring memory.  _I want everything that was yours_. His smile, cruel and snide. _You're gone, Shane. Over_. Yes, they'd all abandoned him like rats off a sinking ship. But this ship hadn't sank.

Shane sat down in the chair, leaning back in it, resting his arms on the sides. Settling in with a leisurely sigh. He rubbed his hand pensively across his mouth, seeing the looks in the mens' eyes. And it was exactly what he expected it would be; respect. Respect for someone who had torn down the leader of the Goldsworth empire with just a well-timed play of a card. He avoided looking at Sara. He knew her eyes wouldn't hold respect. They'd hold something he didn't want to see. Shane smiled at the waiting men, legs crossed in a figure four. He took to the chair like he was born to it. 

"Bring me Goldsworth's phone. And get the password out of him." Shane felt the thrill go through him as two of the suited men immediately jumped to do so _. Mine. All mine_. "Let's see if he's kept up with any old friends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/ORLBgaxB2fU?t=68  
> yeah inspo for shane takin the Throne. i can just picture it, i love ramin djawadi please take my soul. and that bit at 1:36? perfect credits music if it was a tv show. oof


	5. Bird Song

_**Two Days Later.** _

“Ricky.” 

Shane stepped into the clearing amid the boxes, shoes echoing off the concrete. He was still dressed in his work clothes, white shirt crisp and clean, red tie relaxed and loose. Just like him. He wandered to a halt in front of the chair, seeing the unadulterated fear in the man’s eyes. Shane held his gaze, unwavering. 

“Ricky, Ricky, Ricky. Look what you’ve gotten yourself into.” Shane smiled at him, not exactly a warm gesture. “Ironic, isn’t it. Or maybe not. Irony is caused by fate, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. It’s not like a gagged man could reply anyway. “This… This was caused by me.”

Goldsworth swallowed, the gag making it a bit difficult. 

“Do you remember what you said to me, Ricky?” Shane crouched down in front of him, elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled, pointing towards the floor. “You said that I’d hurt you. And that you were going to show me how much I’d hurt you. It was very poetic altogether.” 

The men stayed in the shadows, wringing their hands, keeping their gazes averted. They'd been in these situations before, many times. But right now, the look in Shane’s eyes, the anger that was making him move stiffly, had them on edge. Just in case Shane decided not to forgive them in the end. And even though it would've been five against one, attacking the man right now felt as imposing as facing a tiger with nothing but a toothpick for a weapon.

“And I’ll admit, I was very hurt. What you did hurt me.” The words were icy, quiet. “It hurt me so much that I haven’t stopped thinking about it for the past five years.” He reached out, tapping him lightly on the chest. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

He straightened back up, Goldsworth closing his eyes, trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever was planned for him. Shane strolled back into view minutes later, nothing in hand. But there was something in his pocket. Goldsworth’s eyes widened as the taller man leaned over him, predatory. Goldsworth swallowed hard, his mouth dry. 

“And you even had the audacity to try and act as if the reason you were hurting him was because you were jealous.” Shane’s voice was bitter, cold. “I really had to think, Ricky. I really had to put thought and effort into how I could possibly hurt you half as much as you hurt me that night.” He stood in front of the other man. He could’ve been carved from stone. “And you know what they say; an eye for an eye.” He let his eyes travel up and down the other man. “But all the other parts first.”

Goldsworth swallowed again, too petrified to speak. His entire body grew icy cold as Shane held a casual hand out, the handle of a knife being placed into it. Shane brought the blade around, letting his gaze study it, vaguely interested. He was more interested in what the blade could do than what it looked like. He traced a finger along the edge, almost adoringly. Then he lifted his gaze to meet Ricky's, the beginnings of a smile on his face. Goldsworth was trembling, a tear leaking from one eye, soaking into the gag. Shane placed a soft hand against the side of his face, the knife on the other side.

"Shane."

He paused, turning his head to look at her. "What."

Sara was staring at him like he was a monster. He hadn't done any of the more gruesome deaths himself, by his own hand. Only Banjo's. Seeing him standing there, a hip out to one side in a scarily casual manner, knife pressed against a man's face, had her feeling a bit uneasy. "If you have to kill him, just do it."

Shane let his offended gaze linger on her as he turned back to face Ricky. "Yeah. I'll get there."

"Shane. This isn't you." 

"This wasn't me. It is now." He half-turned to face her, a hand still holding Ricky by the jaw. "You told me you wouldn't do this."

She shook her head firmly. "This is too far."

"It's not far enough." He looked her up and down, an eyebrow raised. "If you can't handle it, then wait outside."

 _I saw him!_ She wanted to shout it, to go over and shake him for being so blind. _I saw him yesterday! He's alive, you idiot!_ "They're gonna know it was you, Shane. This will be way too obvious."

He paused again at this, an irritated frown on his face. Mainly because she was right. He tutted, lowering the blade, seeing the relief flash across Ricky's face. So he stuck the knife under his chin, tilting his head up to look him right in the eye. And the fear was back again. Nothing could have said _We're not done_ _yet_ clearer than the look on the taller man's face. Shane reached into his pocket with his other hand, taking out a small glass bottle.

“This is strychnine,” said Shane almost distractedly, studying the liquid through the dark glass, the knife still holding Ricky's head up. “A poison. That I chose specially for you. I was going to wait for a while before giving it to you, but... Sara's right.”

Goldsworth watched the bottle, wide-eyed, as Shane came closer. A mumble escaped his mouth, absent of words, but full of pleading.

“You know, it’s basically rat poison. Fitting, I thought.” Shane stood over him, looking down his nose at him, not a shred of empathy in his eyes. “Would you like to know what’s going to happen to you? It won't hurt as much as you hurt me. But it’ll be close enough.” He pushed the blade a bit firmer under his chin, tilting his head right back. “There’ll be a lot of spasms, I was told. Liver failure. Kidney failure. Difficulty breathing. A hell of a lot of pain. Might last for three or four hours. Or days. Or weeks.” He forced the man’s mouth open around the gag, bringing the bottle closer, ignoring the whimpers as he did so, the struggles. “Then respiratory failure. Then you’ll die. Right here in this building. It even looks a bit similar to your choice Down Under, doesn’t it?”

Sara edged behind a pile of boxes, watching from around them, clenching her teeth as Shane simply emptied the contents of the small bottle over the man’s face; into his mouth, up his nose, his eyes. Goldsworth cried out, a muffled sound, a gurgle to it. Shane had straightened back up again, chucking the glass bottle aside, dusting his hands off. He then hooked a finger behind the gag, pulling the fabric down to hang around Goldsworth’s neck.

“This stays off,” muttered Shane, studying his face like he was already looking at a dead body. “I want to be able to hear you scream.”

“Shane, please.” Goldsworth’s voice was still dry, croaky. “Don’t- Just kill me. Just-”

“You know, it’s a strange thing, Ricky. To never forget the sound of your own screams.” Shane straightened back up again, a finger still hooked around the gag, ignoring the continued pleading. “But you made your choice. Your choice to hurt me, and to humiliate me, and to terrorize me. And you enjoyed it. I could tell.” Shane pulled the gag forwards and up, yanking Goldsworth off the seat slightly, looking at him like he was a disease. “And I’m the consequence to that choice. And I’m going to enjoy it very, _very_ much.“

He turned away, hands in his pockets as he headed back over to where the men still half-watched from the door. Sara stepped forwards as he came around the corner, his sharp features half-visible in the light from the single bulb above where Goldsworth still sat, his voice echoing as he shouted for Shane to come back, to just listen to him, _please_. 

“I hope you all saw that.” Shane’s voice was low, openly threatening, his unblinking gaze moving along the men's faces. “I’ll forgive you. But if you ever think I’ll forget about what you did to me, you’re fools. And if you ever lie to me again, you know now what’ll be in store. Okay?”

They all mumbled agreements, nodding, avoiding his eyes. Sara stared at him, and for once, she was afraid to speak. She was afraid of Shane. So when he turned away to go back to the man in the chair, to watch the show, she went outside, and made a few phone calls. Horsley didn't return them. Neither did Norris. Sara wasn't really surprised; they had no reason to trust her. But in the end, she didn't even need their help.

* * *

**_One Week Later._ **

It was pure luck in the end. Or fate. Or coincidence. Or just the powers above playing a cruel, cruel game. Ryan slipped through the bustling doors and into Union Station, feeling a bit lively on this fine evening. The ground was dry, the leaves outside crunchy, a comforting autumnal chill in the air. He shrugged off his coat as he continued inside, his footsteps loud against the marble, just like everyone else’s. There was a tour going on, a gaggle of tourists flooding the ticket stalls. He wove through them, a distracted smile on his face as he kept his eyes on the remaining free machine. 

He came down the steps to the left of the machine, and really, Ryan couldn’t have missed him. He strode towards the opposite set of marble steps, phone in hand, his other hand in the pocket of his long black coat. Ryan’s mouth slowly fell open, his steps slowing, slowing, until he wasn’t walking anymore. It was him. If his unmissable height didn’t give him away, if the meandering confidence of his walk didn’t give him away, his tousled hair and pointy nose did. Ryan immediately altered his course, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to shout his name, to call him, but there was still doubt in his mind.  _You’re meant to be dead. Did you tell Horsley to tell me you were dead? Is that even you?_  His pace picked up, pushing through the crowd now, unaware of the muttered curses thrown his way. 

Shane hopped up the steps two at a time, vanishing around the corner above, like some sort of ghost. Ryan was running now, racing up the steps after him, into the quieter, lonelier side corridor. He slowed to a halt, eyes wide, fixed on the receding figure of his imagination come to life. He was almost afraid to call. He was afraid he was wrong.

“Shane?”

The man stopped. He positively froze in place, shoulders tense. He didn’t turn for a long few seconds. He looked back over his shoulder, a wide-eyed frown on his face, bafflement, disbelief. His face drained of color. He still didn’t turn fully. His eyes were stuck to the man down the corridor, the only other person around who was standing still. He turned, slowly, as if moving too fast would wake him up from the dream he was beginning to think he was in. Ryan was still watching him, wary, his fists clenched by his sides. He swallowed hard.

“Ryan?”

 No response for a long moment. “You’re not… dead?”

“I-" A pause. "No, I don’t think I am.”

Ryan let himself smile weakly. “Well, holy shit.”

Shane went quiet, his eyes still stuck to Ryan, wide. His footsteps rang out as he paced down towards him, quickly, urgently. He had to make sure this was real. He had to make sure it was really him.

He pulled Ryan into a tight hug, a desperate embrace, arms firm around him, feeling Ryan’s own arms hold him close, fingers digging into him. It was real. It was terrifyingly real. He rested his head on the shorter man’s as Ryan buried his face in his chest. He closed his eyes, lips pressed together in a firm line to try and stop them from trembling. He wanted to cry. He wanted to dissolve into a puddle of his own tears. He didn't even care that there were people watching, sipping their coffees, waiting for friends. He could feel Ryan’s breaths against his chest, shallow, as if he was also trying not to break down in floods. They didn’t move for a while, holding each other together. Shane leaned back, his hands moving to hold the shorter man’s face, seeing the watery eyes threatening to overflow. Ryan’s hands rested on his wrists.

“You’re real,” breathed the taller man, his own vision blurring. “Ryan. Oh my God.”

Ryan raised his hand to brush away a tear on the other man’s face, letting his hand rested there. “Don’t. Don’t, you’ll make  _me_ cry.”

As if he couldn’t quite stop himself, Shane raised a hand, a fingertip resting on the light scar across the shorter man’s cheekbone. Ryan froze, his eyes wide, fixed on Shane’s. But Shane wasn’t looking back. He was following the movement of his fingers as they traced down from the scar below Ryan’s eye to the one crossing his jaw. It was a ghostly line, invisible, if you didn’t know to look for it. And Shane knew to look for it. Even though he wished he didn’t. His hand slid under Ryan’s jaw to gently cup his face, thumb brushing across his lips so softly it was a crime. Then he lifted his gaze to meet Ryan’s again, freezing, his hand paused. Ryan stared back, his heart palpating in his chest, his body stone still.

"I- I didn’t-” Shane hesitated, dropping his hand, averting his wide-eyed gaze. “Sorry. I just-"

"No, no, it's- It's okay." Ryan swallowed, his skin still tingling where the other man had touched him. Had finally touched him again. "It's fine."

"It's just- I thought you died.”

“I thought  _you_ died!” _I was told you died. Why did Horsley tell me you died?_ He smiled up at him. _And why don't you know she told me that?_

Shane smiled back at him, a small one. “Well, if we never managed to kill each other, who else could, hm?”

Ryan returned the smile, just as small, as shy. He let his hands rest on the taller man, on his chest, feeling him breathe. Feeling him being  _alive_. “I can’t- I can’t really believe this. I can’t believe it’s you.”

Shane didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off him, a soft look, just like in the car on that night a lifetime ago. He glanced behind him, up the station towards the doors. Then he turned back. “Do you… Do you want to go for a walk? Catch up or something?”  _Anything_.

Ryan stepped back, an eyebrow raised as he looked him up and down. “I don’t know. Are you still a money launderer and general con-man?”

Shane returned the grin. “Are you still a cop and general pain in the neck?”

“No to the first part.”

Shane started walking, hearing the shorter man beside him, the two of them still looking at each other. Still mildly stunned. His mind still hadn't quite processed that it was Ryan. Ryan Bergara, still alive, still breathing, still smiling, still laughing. And he looked adorable, all wrapped up in his scarf and hat, shrugging his coat back on. Shane reached over, pushing the shorter man's hat up slightly so he could see his eyes better. 

"Jesus, Ryan. You're like a human burrito."

"Well I am half-Mexican." Ryan grinned at him, the two of them heading down the street, eyes still stuck to each other. If they looked away, they might wake up. "Well _you_ still look like a human noodle."

"Oh, whatever." Shane rolled his eyes, pulling his own hat on over his hair, tufts of which remained free and wild. "God, going from LA to Australia clearly didn't help your tolerance levels for the cold."

Ryan gave him a playful poke in the side, hearing the muffled laugh. "You're freezing, dude. Don't try and act all brave just for me."

"I'm not cold!" lied Shane, hoping his red nose and cheeks didn't give away the truth. "I'm fine! I've survived many a hard winter, little guy."

Ryan felt his heart flutter at the fond title, his eyes landing on the distant lights of a café. "C'mon, Shane. I know it when you lie. I'm an expert."

A pause. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you are."

They walked side by side, hands in their pockets, sneaking glances of each other, like they were two teenagers on their first date. Shane rolled his eyes at himself, at the way he couldn't stop his heart from beating so excitedly. Really, Ryan being alive was a problem. A big problem. But for now, just for now, he'd ignore it. He'd let himself be happy. Ryan gave him a nudge, smiling up at him. And fuck it, that smile. Shane could feel it melting away the layers of ice around his heart. And again, this was a problem. But he ignored it, and smiled back, and asked Ryan what he'd been up to for the past five years.

* * *

“You’re not a cop anymore?”

“I got a little bit fired,” said Ryan dryly, his glance equally dry. “Or more, they hinted at me to quit. A jump or get shoved situation.”

“That’s harsh, man. Even after what you- What happened?” Shane hadn’t brought it up yet, even though hours had passed by now. He hadn't brought up That Night. He was ridiculously nervous about it, about how the other man might react. About what he might remember. “They fired you?”

“ _Especially_  after what happened.” Ryan shrugged. “What… What happened that night was the reason they didn’t fire me on the spot.”

Shane nodded, picking up his own coffee. “Was it, uh, was it because of me?”

“Do you really need to ask that?”

Shane glanced at him, trying to guess whether or not he was annoyed. He didn’t seem to be. “I’m sorry. I guess.”

“Yeah, you better be sorry. For being so stupidly attractive.”

Shane rolled his eyes, hoping to disguise the light flush across his cheeks. “Right. Yeah. My bad. You definitely aren't guilty of that too.”

Ryan looked down, biting on his lip to try and hide his smile. He couldn't look at him for a few long seconds. Because it was back. It was back like it had never left; the attraction. The mental, the physical magnetization. He'd felt the jitters go through him as he'd shrugged off his coat, seeing Shane's eyes flicker up and down his body, heard him inhale deeply. And Ryan couldn't even look him in the eye for too long; the boyish smile, the effortlessly tousled hair, the general charm about him. He'd hoped it would all gone, but man, was he glad it wasn't.

Shane cleared his throat, placing his coffee down. "So what do you do now?"

Ryan smiled at him, a fond one. “I’m a PI now. And I actually like it better.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Shane laughed. “You can’t arrest me now. Not even if you wanted to.”

“And why would I want to arrest you?” grinned Ryan, seeing the other man’s eyes flicker to his mouth, seeing him readjust his seating slightly. “You’re not money-laundering, right?”

“I’m not, actually. I’m just an innocent accountant.” _Kind of_.

“Yeah, I lost track of how many times you told me that line. I lost track a long time ago.”

Shane raised his hands to shoulder-level, still smiling. “I’m telling the truth!”

“I lost track of that one too.” Ryan shrugged. “But it’s weird now. I don’t  _have_  to care.”

Shane leaned forwards, folding his arms on the table between them. “So if I told you right now that I was laundering money from dawn till dusk,  _really_  heavy duty stuff, you wouldn’t care?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t push it too far, Madej.”

“What if I told you I’m really slugging out that cash,” continued Shane, absent-mindedly stirring his coffee with the spoon provided. “Hard and fast. Just  _constant_. You wouldn’t care?”

Ryan rested an elbow on the table, his chin in his hand. “Well, it’s not illegal for you to bribe me now, Shane.” He watched the man’s hands slip around his mug, the long fingers interlocking. “So bribe me.”

Shane didn’t reply for a moment, biting hard on his lip as he leaned forwards. “And this isn’t one of your wily tricks, is it?”

“Nope.” Ryan lowered his voice, also leaning forwards. “But I don’t take money as bribes. One of my rules.”

Shane raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. “Really.”

“Mm. Really.”

Shane took the spoon from his coffee, placing it in his mouth, slipping it out again, foam-free. “You know, Ryan, I still feel a little surge of panic when you talk to me like that.”

Ryan wondered if it was possible to be jealous of a piece of cutlery. “Panic?”

“I feel threatened. Like you’re gonna pull a fast one on me.” Shane smiled over his mug, a sly one. “And I love it.”

“Do you.”

“I really do.” Shane placed his mug back down, eyes still fixed on the other man’s. “I feel like if I reached across the table right now and did what I want to do, one of your police buddies would jump out from behind that counter and put a gun to my head.” A quiet breath. “Really gets me going.”

Ryan had forgotten entirely about his own coffee, eyes stuck to the man across from him. “And what do you want to do.”

“I think you know.”

Ryan swallowed hard, feeling just a tad ashamed at how turned on he was in a public place. Even though there was hardly anyone else in the café this late. “This is ridiculous. How do you still do that?” He forced himself to sit back, folding his arms across his chest. “How do you still just do that to me?”

Shane raised his eyebrows in mock-naivety. “Do what to you, baby?”

Ryan closed his eyes at the purred words, burying his reddening face in his hands. “God. Fuck you.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better,” said Shane wryly. “You still turn me on too. Even five years later.”

Ryan raised his gaze, looking at the other man. He let his eyes flicker to the bathrooms a few meters away, seeing Shane’s eyes follow, a small smirk appearing on his face.

“No,” said Ryan, leaning back with a laugh. “No, what are we? Teenagers?”

“God, don’t tell me you’re still so honorable.”

“Unfortunately, I am.”

“That’s good.” Shane smiled at him. “That’s one of the things I actually liked about you.”

“What? Really?” Ryan looked genuinely surprised. “I thought you hated that about me.”

“I suppose there was a little bit of jealousy on my part,” continued Shane. “Honor is a good thing to have, and I don’t have it.”

“Oh, yes you do.” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “No matter how much you try to hide it, you’re not a bad guy.”

“I’m not one of the bad boys, no?”

Ryan grinned. “No. You’re not.”

“Well I think I am.” Shane lowered his voice, just for the two of them to hear. “Because I want to take you into those bathrooms right now, and make up for all our lost time.”

Ryan swallowed, not taking his eyes from Shane’s as the other man took a sip of his drink. “And how would you make up for it.”

“I’ll be honest, Ryan, and say I just want to kiss you.” His eyes drifted to Ryan’s mouth, where the other man was currently biting his lip. The last sentence was whispered. “God, I just want to kiss you again.”

Ryan didn’t reply. He got to his feet, feeling Shane’s eyes following him as he went to the bathrooms in question. His heart fluttered in his chest, with excitement, with want. He turned as the door opened again, Shane stepping in, closing it and locking it behind him. He didn’t take his eyes from the shorter man, Ryan tilting his head back to hold eye contact as Shane guided him back against the wall. He could feel Shane’s hands on his arms, his grip firm and strong. Ryan could barely breathe his heart was beating so fast. He let his hands rest on the other man’s waist, raising his eyebrows a little at the surprising firmness.

“You’ve lost weight?”

Shane shrugged. “Unintentional.”

Ryan ran his hands down from the taller man’s chest to his stomach, his eyes still locked on Shane’s. “Where’s the little pouch for your extra cookies gone?”

Shane spared him a dry smile. “Very funny. Now shh.”

Ryan’s eyes fluttered slightly as he felt the other man’s hand rest on the side of his face, thumb under his jaw, pushing his head back for a better angle. He swallowed hard, lips parting as the taller man leaned in, his breaths low and quick, their noses slipping past each other. Their mouths came together in a heated kiss, the two of them inhaling deeply at the sensation, pulling each other closer. Ryan let his head tilt back to accommodate the taller man’s height, his hands gripping fistfuls of Shane’s shirt collar, drawing him in deeper. Their mouths worked against each other, hot and passionate and lustful, and despite the fact they were in a café bathroom in Chicago, they may as well have been in a dodgy motel in Australia. Shane broke off to pick the shorter man up, hands under his thighs, carrying him to the ledge beneath the long mirror. Ryan kissed him again the second they were steady, hooking his legs around Shane’s waist, pulling him in, arms around his neck.

“Ryan,” breathed the taller man, hands cupping the other man’s flushed face. “God, I missed you.”

Ryan simply leaned in, his lips coming together against Shane’s neck, letting his tongue brush his skin. And it just felt _right_. Shane let out a trembling sigh, feeling Ryan’s fingers dragging down between his shoulder blades as the kisses against his neck grew more hungry, more fierce. He fell forwards, a hand pressed to the mirror behind Ryan, his head spinning.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck, Ryan.” His shirt collar was pulled open, the mouth meandering along his collarbone. “Ryan, Ryan, stop. Oh  _God_ , stop.”

Ryan did so, a confused look on his face, eyes still sparkling. “What?”

“If you kiss my neck again,” said Shane quietly into his ear. “I can’t be held accountable for what I do.”

He felt Ryan pause, lean back slightly to look him in the eye. His gaze drifted down to Shane's mouth. He moved forwards again, a soft kiss, Shane's eyes fluttering closed. Then Ryan suddenly swapped, his hand pulling Shane's head aside, his mouth landing on Shane's neck in a deep kiss, swiping his tongue across the man's skin. He heard the rough moan from the taller man, the hands claw at his back as Shane leaned forwards against him, leaned into the feeling against his neck. 

"Ryan," he breathed, like it was a prayer. "Ryan, I- Fuck." 

He tangled his fingers in Ryan's hair, wrenching his head back, their open mouths centimeters apart. Shane closed his eyes, breathing heavily, feeling the other man's harsh breaths against his mouth.

"Come back to mine," whispered Shane, unable to even consider taking his hands off the other man. "Right now. Come to mine."

"I can't." Ryan sighed heavily, leaning back against the mirror. "I have work to finish. That I was meant to do earlier, before I got rudely interrupted."

"Fuck work.  _Forget_  work. Fuck  _me_."

Ryan laughed, resting his hands on the taller man's shoulders. "God, if I could."

"You can. You should."

Ryan searched his eyes. "You come to mine."

Hesitation flickered through Shane's eyes. Ryan frowned, wondering exactly what he was hesitant about. An unpleasant feeling stirred in him, a feeling that things may not be going as well as they seemed after all. 

"Yeah, yeah, I will," said Shane, stepping back, letting Ryan down to the floor. "Just let me phone Sara first. She'll want to know where I am."

Ryan nodded, following him back to the door, hand in hand. "Yeah. Okay."

They ignored the disapproving look from the remaining barista as they gathered their things, taking their time, laughing and chatting as they headed back to Ryan's. It was nice, and it was easy, and it was the biggest relief either of them had felt in years. But certain questions were danced around, something that the two of them most definitely noticed. Questions like why the other was in Chicago, or what the other was currently working on in their respective jobs, or if they'd seen anyone else from Australia, or what they thought of McClintock's untimely death. How could they not have noticed the other expertly avoid the questions? They knew each very well, after all. They knew each other as friends, as lovers. And they knew each other as Detective Bergara and Mister Madej, in stuffy interrogation rooms and bright offices, with nothing else to do but outwit each other until one of them gave in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Fat Inspo to this scene from Westworld https://youtu.be/TqafENy49e8?t=42 and the accompanying soundtrack that led me to the scene . shane channeling big dolores energy
> 
> ALSO also, spoiler songs for the root shane & ryan are gonna go in this fic:
> 
> No Care by Daughter https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZCZG5pwQGk  
> First Defeat by Noah Gundersen https://youtu.be/1_-WdBXaJQE  
> Who Are You? by SVRCINA https://youtu.be/2U3IAfWKu70  
> Bird Song by FATM (from shane's POV with ryan being the bird.... ooooooo) https://youtu.be/Jno8dow48NY
> 
> cry about it


	6. Cruel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Yet each man kills the thing he loves_  
>  _By each let this be heard_  
>  _Some do it with a bitter look_  
>  _Some with a flattering word_  
>  _The coward does it with a kiss_  
>  _The brave man with a sword.”_ \- Oscar Wilde (irish reppin')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw for all my workin ppl out there  
> in which case get back 2 work  
> why you readin fanfic at work

Ryan hurried to do up his tie, hoping to all the gods in the world that his phone wouldn’t ring. That Horsley wouldn’t ring. He had a feeling that she and Shane weren’t exactly on good terms, and to what extent, he didn’t care to find out. Not yet, anyway.

He turned his head as he heard the shower being turned on, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, make yourself at home!”

“It’s a shower I can stand up straight in, Ryan!” he called back. “How can I miss out on that?”

 _Yeah_. Ryan hesitated, slowing with his tie.  _How can I miss out on that_.

He popped his head in the door to the unnecessarily spacious bathroom. The shower was just as obnoxiously large, doorless, just a panel of glass that led on till it allowed for a gap of a doorway at the opposite wall. And behind the steamed-up glass he could see him, his tall figure, his broad shoulders, his dampened hair. He could hear him too, singing along to some indecipherable tune. And then a hand wiped across the glass, revealing his eyes, looking right down at Ryan.

“Well?” His grin was evident even just with his eyes. “I’d say there’s  _just_  enough room for some company in here.”

Ryan gave him a flat look. Then he was already on his way in, pulling his tie off over his head, tossing it back over the glass panel. “I’m gonna be so fucking late.”

“Mm, c'mere, baby.”

He pulled the shorter man forwards into a deep kiss, turning them, backing him against the wall, the hot water pouring down Ryan’s body, sticking his shirt to him. Still kissing him, Shane pulled the shirt open, his hands sliding under, grabbing hold of the shorter man’s slick waist, fingers digging in.

“How the fuck did you get this place?” said Shane distractedly, fumbling with Ryan’s belt, feeling Ryan’s mouth against his chest, hands dragging down from his shoulders, hotter than the water. “You a millionaire now?”

“Mm.” Ryan let the shirt be pulled off him entirely, let Shane help him get rid of all the irritating clothes. He let his head tilt back as Shane’s mouth found his throat, tongue brushing the wet skin, a hand tangling in the taller man’s wet hair. “Sure.”

Shane kissed him hard, feeling Ryan's mouth open upon impact, their tongues slick against each other, hands moving to hold each other closer, if it were even possible. He let a hand slide down the shorter man's body, and the situation once again had him mentally floored. It was real, it was definitely real; Ryan felt firm, warm under his fingers, too solid to be fake. He could feel Ryan getting more intense, more grabby, his breaths getting loud enough to hear above the water. 

"Fuck me," he panted, a hand against Shane's chest, his other arm wrapped around his neck. "Now. Now, come _on_."

"Okay, okay, hold on." Shane squinted into the water, eyes narrowed. "You ever used water as lube or-"

"Are you serious?" Ryan stared at him. "No way, dude! Go get the actual lube that won't kill me."

"Oh, _I_ have to go and get it?" Shane reached around the shorter man to pick up a bottle of shampoo, eyebrows raised. "Because I'm fine without sex right now, Ryan. I think I'll just wash my sexy hair and my sexy body and- _Oh_ yeah." He continued pouring the shampoo down onto his chest like a stripper with honey. "Oh yeah, that's just so fucking sexy. Look at me, Ryan. Look at how sexy I am."

"Oh, _so_ sexy." Ryan picked up the conditioner, pushing a hand back through his wet hair, looking over his shoulder at the taller man. "But I also don't want to leave the shower, so... Want  to see how far I can put this bottle in my mouth?"

Shane continued enthusiastically lathering up the shampoo on his chest, head tilted back. "Ugh baby, I'm so fucking hot right now. I can't stand it. Can you stand it? I can't."

"Shane, I'm gonna deepthroat this bottle and you can't stop me." The shorter man barely touched the lid of the bottle with his tongue before Shane grabbed it off him, a wry smile on his face. Ryan blinked up at him, all innocence. "What? You _don't_ want to see that?"

"Fine. You win." Shane rolled his eyes as he turned away. "But just to let you know, I actually turned myself on. So there."

* * *

"Where the hell is he?"

"I don't know." Horsley remained behind her desk, studying her phone. "That Rubin woman rang me six times yesterday evening. This morning, Bergara is late. And I can't help but put two and two together."

Norris turned to stare at her, an eyebrow arched. "You think he found him?"

"I think I can now add destiny to my list of allies." Horsley placed her phone aside, elbows on the table, fingers steepled. "Let Bergara be distracted for now. He'll distract himself by distracting Madej. I'll tell Tinsley."

Norris nodded, picking up her ponderous pacing again. "Tinsley said he thinks Bergara knows."

"He knows Shane is Dexter?"

"He knows Shane is involved." Norris raised her eyebrows at her. "You think now is the time for the Offer?"

Horsley sat back, legs crossed, chin resting in her hand. "Leave it until this evening. Let Madej get infatuated again. Then we'll bring out the Offer."

It was cruel. They both knew it was cruel. They also didn't care in the slightest, at all, in any way. Norris stood behind one of the chairs in front of the desk, manicured hands resting on the back of it.

"What if Bergara refuses?"

Horsley took her glasses off, picked up the cloth to start cleaning them. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that it will trigger something inside him. And whatever it might trigger can't possibly be in Madej's favor. No matter what it is."

Norris nodded pensively. "This could be nearing an end then, yes? Madej's still alone. Bergara is back on the board. We have the upper hand."

Horsley smiled at her. "Yes. Yes we do."

* * *

The shower water was hot, the long glass door steamed up. A hand pressed against it, wiping downwards, clawing through the condensation. Just over the cascading water was a breathy moan, a curse, the hand landing back on the glass, further up this time.

Shane kept the shorter man pinned between the smooth shower wall and his body, one of Ryan’s hands dragging down his back, the other pressed against the glass as Shane drove up into him again, hearing the harsh moan into his ear. It had been a hell of a night. It was now a hell of a morning. Ryan couldn’t even process the fact that he had a job, a job he was supposed to be attending. Nothing existed outside the shower door. Nothing existed but Shane's mouth, his hands, his body sliding against Ryan's, hot and wet. Ryan rested his head back against the wall, blissful.

"Faster,” he panted, the heat of the water spreading down his chest, dripping off his face. “Fast- Yeah, yeah, God,  _fuck_.” The last word was pushed out through gritted teeth, his back arching away from the wall. "Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , Shane, I'm-" The sentence dragged out into a breathless moan, his hand landing on Shane's shoulder, fingers digging in.

Shane watched his face, the closed eyes, the parted lips, the unhidden pleasure. His own hand grabbed hold of the top of the glass door, he turned Ryan, pressing him back against the steamed-up glass, feeling the legs still hooked around his waist, Ryan's body flush against his. The shorter man reached back, hands gripping the top of the glass, feeling Shane's hands slide down his chest, fingers running down his ribs, thumbs pressing against his stomach, feeling him, familiarizing himself once again. And he fucked him until the shower was barely audible above their moans, the glass smeared with their handprints.

"I've never had successful shower sex before. But that fucking _shower_. I mean, where did you fucking find this place, Ryan?” Shane towel-dried his hair, quickly, messily. “I mean, what the fuck do PI’s earn? This place is insane!”

Ryan grinned at him from the bed, a hand propping his head up. “It’s not that impressive.”

“Do you know how many showers exist that I can stand up straight in?” asked Shane dryly, half-turning to look at him. “One. And it's here.”

Ryan smiled at him, the sheets draped across his hips, tasteful, like he was in some Renaissance painting. Shane stared at him for a minute. Then he knelt on the bed, leaning across it, mumbling the words as he kissed the man.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Ryan let his eyes flutter closed, head resting back against the pillow, his arms around the other man, fingers digging into his back. Shane’s body was warm against his, warm, and heavy, and comforting. Shane pressed a heated kiss to the other man’s lips, feeling Ryan’s hands sliding down his back, then up around to his chest, feeling the hot dampness of his skin. Ryan broke off from the kiss, Shane’s mouth following his, desperate to keep him close.

"God, you really chose your timing when you decided to kick back down the door into my life." Ryan kissed him again, slipping an arm around his neck, drawing him in. "I have to go, Shane. This time I actually do."

"Oh, screw it." Shane allowed the shorter man to push him aside, pulling him with him so that Ryan was draped over his body. "It's Saturday! You can't work on a Saturday."

"Yet I have to." Ryan lay against him for a long moment, head on his chest, sighing wearily. "Unfortunately."

Shane distractedly ran his fingers through the other man's dark hair, gaze fixed on the windows that made up the far wall of the bedroom, and the city beyond. "Must be a pretty important client."

He frowned as he suddenly felt Ryan's body tense. He stopped running his hand through his hair, raising his head slightly to see Ryan's eyes. For a long few seconds, Ryan stared back, as if waiting for him to say something more. Shane propped himself up on his elbows, Ryan's hand slipping down from his chest to his stomach. 

"What?" He searched the other man's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Ryan finally looked away, sitting back, still straddling the other man's hips. "You just- You just reminded me of how important this client actually is. And how I should _definitely_ be leaving."

"Well, whoops. Played myself." Shane watched him quickly get dressed, for the second time that morning. "Who's your client?"

Ryan didn't pause in getting ready, buttoning up his shirt double-time. "They're confidential. Private. Don't want anyone knowing."

Shane sat upright, and he wasn't even aware of the dark look on his face as Ryan sat on the bed, tying his shoes. It was only when Ryan turned to look at him that they skipped a mutual beat. Ryan stared. Shane stared back. The shorter man didn't move. Neither did Shane.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Shane blinked himself out of his intense glare, looking away. "I- Uh, sorry. Ha. Old habits die hard."

Ryan didn't laugh, rolling up his sleeves with just a bit of force as he stood up. "Does it bother you or something that I'm not telling you who the client is?"

Shane looked back at him, meeting his sharp gaze. It was like going back in time. He felt like he should be sitting in a police station, Horsley by his side, and Ryan across the table. "Well, a little. But you don't _have_ to tell me. I guess."

Ryan picked up his keys, finally tearing his eyes from the other man's. "Okay. Cool. Uh, you can let yourself out whenever."

A silence. "Cool."

For a second, it seemed like Ryan was going to say something else. But then he closed his mouth, and shook his keys, and left. And the entire way to Horsley's offices he couldn't stop thinking about the look he'd just seen on Shane's face. It wasn't anything new to him. No, it was _old_ to him. It was the hawk-eyed observance, the look that used to set Ryan's teeth on edge. It apparently still did. He unclenched his jaw, wondering how Shane could be melting in his hands one second but freeze right back up into an impenetrable block of ice the next. He'd gone from Shane to Madej in seconds. One name, but two personalities. Shane was funny, soft, surprisingly kind-hearted. Madej was sharp, cold, cutting, ready to rip you in half if you crossed him. And as he pondered this, Shane himself pondered the same, the differences between Ryan and Bergara. Detective Bergara, more specifically. 

He wandered around Ryan's new apartment, absent-mindedly flipping open the notebooks and letters he'd come across. _Not snooping_ , he told himself. _Just... checking_. Checking that it was just Ryan he was welcoming back into his life with very open arms indeed. Or was it Bergara, the irritatingly sharp detective who'd brought him crashing down for the first and only time in his life. Shane stood in front of the windows, one hand on his hip, the other running back through his hair as he sighed deeply. Jesus, it was almost as if life wasn't a fairytale or something.

* * *

It was late evening by the time he reached Horsley's. She didn't even seem mildly annoyed, which shocked him, considering the fact he was multiple hours late. She even went as far as to smile at him as he came in, closing the bulletproof door behind him.

"Good evening."

He smiled back, suddenly remembering that he should've checked himself for hickeys. If there was one - or five - she didn't react. He sat down. 

"Tinsley wanted me to suggest something to you," she said, straight to the point in typical Horsley fashion. "It's an offer he has on his mind. An offer for you."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "An offer? What offer?"

She smiled again, a look he thought seemed oddly... predatory. It was probably because she never smiled anyway. He let it go. 

"You enjoyed being a detective, didn't you?" 

Ryan raised his head, sitting a bit straighter in his seat. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"More than being a PI?"

He mulled it over. "There's some more liberties to being a PI, really. But there's also none of the legitimacy of being a cop." He shrugged. "People don't cooperate as easily when you don't have a badge."

"Well how would you like one again."

A silence. "Huh?"

Horsley watched him closely. "Tinsley's very impressed with you, Bergara. Very impressed. He'd like to offer you a place on the force here."

His heart leaped, with happiness or anxiety, he wasn't sure. "But- But I... I kind of fucked up my whole career. You know the whole, uh, story."

"Tinsley doesn't think like that." She shrugged. "He thinks you have an invaluable detective mind. He doesn't care what your background is."

He stared at her. He wanted to stand up and scream _Yes! Yes, that's what I want!_ But he also wanted to collapse on her desk and beg her to take back the offer, to not ruin his happiness quite so quickly. It had barely been twenty-four hours. He swallowed hard, hands resting on his legs. 

"I- I don't know if-"

"I have it here," she interrupted, ducking in her chair to reach into her handbag. "Tinsley's busy, so he told me to... to give it... Yeah, here they are."

Ryan's eyes stayed wide as she placed the badge and gun down on the table. His breath was stuck in his chest the second he saw the silver gleam. _Chicago Police_. God, he wanted it. He wanted a badge on his belt again. He looked back at her, the helplessness clear in his eyes. She smiled yet again, a sweet one. It didn't suit her.

"I don't know," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the badge again. The last time he'd seen a badge and a gun together like that was when he handed them in at his old job. It had been pretty damn heartbreaking. "I don't know if I can."

"You can," she replied simply. "You're not banned from being a cop, Bergara. And even if you were, I'd take care of that for you."

He took a deep breath, a shaky one. "I- I'll have to think about it." 

"Oh." She raised her eyebrows, pouting slightly. "Alright. But if you change your mind, I'll keep them here. For whenever you might change your mind." She smiled. Again. It made his skin crawl. "I'm a valuable ally, Ryan Bergara. Don't forget that."

He got to his feet, forcing himself to walk to the door, each step heavy.

"Goodbye, detective," she said, absent-mindedly. 

He froze, half-turning to look at her. For a second, she acted as if she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. Then she placed a hand over her mouth, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, my bad." She corrected herself. "Bye, Ryan."

He swallowed hard, turning his head away. He positively dragged himself towards the door.

* * *

Shane's mouth was hot on his, passionate, pushing Ryan's head back into the pillow with its intensity. The room was dark, the world was dark beyond the window but for the city lights shining against the night sky, like great unblinking giants. Ryan ran a hand up through the other man's thick hair, letting his fingers tangle in it, curling into a fist. The sound, the feeling of Shane's heavy breaths had his heart skipping. It was surreal; he'd wanted this, dreamed of it for years now, and here it was. He let his head be pushed aside as Shane's mouth burrowed under his jaw, working against his skin, a hand slipping under Ryan's thigh, pulling it up, Ryan's leg hooking behind his, reflexive. Ryan let his eyes flutter open, catching the shine of the city lights. Like the shine of millions of tiny silver badges.

"Ow!" Shane suddenly jerked his head back, wincing as he pulled Ryan's hand from it. "Jesus Christ, man. If you're gonna get kinky, let me know first."

Ryan blinked, seeing the other man's silhouette moodily rubbing the back of his head where Ryan had almost yanked it off. "Sorry, I didn't notice."

"Yeah, it's fine. Just know that getting scalped isn't on my list of sexual fantasies."

Ryan spared a laugh. "Yeah? And what is?"

Shane grinned at him, adopting a seductive purr. "My tastes are very... singular, Ryan. You wouldn't understand."

Ryan felt the bubbles of laughter in his chest, struggling to keep them in. "Don't you dare quote _50 Shades_ at me."

"My desires are... unconventional."

" _Stop_."

"I don't make love," he continued, his voice low, secretive. "I fuck. Hard."

Ryan pushed the other man's face away, the bed shaking as he laughed. "God, stop. You're actually somehow turning me on."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Ryan flipped them, straddling the other man, hands on his chest as he leaned down. "Are you fifty shades of fucked-up, Mister-"

He cut himself off before he said it. Before he called him Mister Madej. He felt the taller man freeze below him, hands pausing on his hips. _God, what's with the fucking names_. He looked away, flushing, even though Shane couldn't exactly make out his face in the dark. _Why do we have to have quite so much history?_ It had been fun for a while. Now he realized there might be a bit more walking on eggshells than he'd anticipated.

"It's a bit weird, isn't it?"

Ryan looked down at him. "Hm?"

"The whole... us thing." He sat upright, slipping his arms around Ryan's waist, holding him in place across his hips. "Sometimes I just forget that, well, I guess I forget how we started."

"Yeah. Me too." Ryan sighed quietly. "Hell of a timeline to forget."

Shane softly rested a hand against the side of his face, thumb brushing his lips. His voice was gentle. "Ryan Bergara. My only threat."

Ryan slipped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him forwards, their mouths meeting, soft but strong. Shane let himself fall back to the bed, pulling the shorter man with him, keeping their mouths together. And the lights shined on.


	7. What Kind Of Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea sorry for the kinda late upload. i was gettin dick last night

Things had gotten a bit tense over the past few days. Ryan would've had to be deaf, blind, and mute in order not to notice. Shane was still dancing around certain topics; his work, what he'd been doing for the five years apart, and why he wasn't still in contact with his old criminal pals. But Ryan was also well aware that he was avoiding similar topics; who he was working for, and what he was doing for them. The secrecy wasn't exactly helping them forget their roots. In fact, it was beginning to remind them of those three years before their tempestuous fling; the lying, and the conniving, and the mental and verbal sparring that would leave them feeling as if they'd been physically sparring too. Yet they were both _trying_ not to let old emotions get in the way. Even as Ryan sat on his laptop, casually chatting to Shane as the taller man was making dinner, the suspicions were still lurking, peeking out, like alligators in a murky river.

Ryan cleared his throat, putting his mug down. “And what do you think of the whole Dexter guy?”

Shane didn’t stop chopping the vegetables. “The serial killer guy? Eh, I haven’t really been keeping up with it.”

“You haven’t been keeping up with a serial killer who only kills criminals?”

The chopping continued, undeterred. “Well I’m not a criminal anymore, Ryan. So no, not really.”

Ryan watched the movement of his shoulders, watching for even the tiniest pause. “Is that how being a criminal works? You quit and then the past is in the past?”

A shrug. “If you try hard enough, yeah. Why, have you been keeping up with it?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty interesting, isn’t it?” He took a sip of coffee. “And I recognize some of the victims.”

“Some of them?”

“Well, a lot of them.” He watched Shane rolling his shoulders, suddenly appearing a bit tense. “McClintock was just an art dealer, wasn’t he?”

The chopping was now a bit more intense, Shane keeping his back to him. “Yeah. Just an art dealer who got a bit too involved for his own good, it seems.”

“Burned alive.” A pause, but for the  _chop chop chop chop_  of the knife. “Wonder what he did to deserve that.”

“Yeah. I wonder.”

Ryan watched him closely over the rim of his mug.  _C'mon, Madej. Give me a sign_. Any sign. A guilty one, or more preferably an innocent one.  _Just crack already_.

“I know I’m not allowed ask who your client is,” said Shane casually, sparing a sidelong glance over his shoulder. “But am I allowed ask what they have you doing?”

“You’re allowed do whatever you want, dude. I just might not answer.”

“Well are you gonna answer?”

Ryan lowered his mug at the edge to the words. “It’s private. I can’t discuss it with anyone but the client.”

“Mm. Very secretive.” Shane’s hair bounced as he tilted his head a tad. “Really, uh, intriguing. For me.”

“Well un-intrigue yourself.”

A quiet laugh. “Yeah. Right away, sir.”

Ryan didn’t laugh. “How did you come across a legit accounting job? Seeing as they probably would’ve had to look into your background.”

The chopping stopped, Shane's shoulders lowering slightly. “What if I told you it’s not exactly legitimate?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shane laughed. “Right. Well, yeah. I do… accounting with force, I guess. It’s legal. But it’s just…” He shrugged, starting to chop again, settling back into the rhythm. “I get money back for people who want it.”

“So a debt collector?”

The chopping stopped. “Yeah.” A pensive pause. “A debt collector.”

Ryan took another sip of coffee, swallowing it. “Alone?”

“No. I- I guess I run it.”

“Of course you do.” Ryan got to his feet, crossing the kitchen towards him. “Big bucks, isn’t it.”

“If you do it right.”

“And do you do it right?”

Shane once again slowed with the chopping, his lowered gaze distant. “Mm. I do it right.”

Ryan slipped his arms around his waist, placing his chin on the taller man’s shoulder with a bit of a stretch. “Good.”

Shane turned around, placing a gentle hand on the side of the shorter man’s face. “It’s not all glitz and glamour like my last job, little guy. It’s a bit more… extreme.”

Ryan looked up at him, feeling the thumb brushing his cheek. “So you do the collecting yourself?”

“…When I have to.”

Ryan placed a soft kiss between the taller man’s open collar, keeping his lips against his skin as he spoke. “You didn’t have enough danger with your last job, no?”

“No.” Shane finally placed the shining knife aside, slipping his hand under the other man’s shirt. “And neither did you, it seems.”

Ryan avoided the kiss, letting the other man simply continue on towards his neck. "Dinner won't cook itself, Shane."

"Mm. I know." He mumbled the words between kisses, concentrating them around the end of Ryan's jaw, feeling the shorter man relaxing against him. "So stop distracting me."

Ryan bit down hard on his lip, letting his head tilt back, Shane's hand running up through his hair as he began walking the shorter man backwards, mouth still working against his neck. He was beginning to notice a pattern here, a pattern of Shane fucking his way out of such conversations. He pushed Shane down onto the nearest chair, realizing that maybe he was guilty of the exact same thing as he began undoing his belt. _Just one more night_ , he thought to himself. _One more night. Then we'll talk_.

Shane bit back his smile, looking up at him, hands moving to hold his hips. “Mm. Come to papa.”

Ryan paused. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”

“…Come to daddy?”

“Worse.”

Shane pulled him forwards, Ryan placing a knee on the side of the chair, his other leg still between the taller man’s. “Come to your ex-arch nemesis who is now your lover on the down-low?”

"Better." Ryan grinned, unbuttoning his shirt. “You know, maybe I should’ve kept my old cop uniform.”

“God, I don’t think I could’ve handled that. A cop stripping for me is a long-time kink I’ve had.” Shane slipped his hands under the white shirt, pushing it aside, fingers moving around to grip the other man’s waist. “God, I missed your body.”

“Mm.” Ryan closed his eyes at the feeling of the lips coming together against his stomach, pushing a hand through Shane’s hair. “How much.”

The response was mumbled, interrupted by the slow kisses. “Let me show you.”

Ryan let himself be pulled closer, sitting across Shane’s hips, his lowered gaze watching the curl of a smile across the other man’s mouth. He shrugged his shirt off completely, letting it drop to the floor, Shane’s warm hands pushing up his back, drawing him in closer.

“C'mon,” said Ryan quietly, the words ghosting across the other man’s lips. “Come to papa.”

Shane laughed dryly, giving a slight shake of his head as he leaned in, pressing his lips to Ryan’s. It took mere seconds before he introduced the tongue, swiping it into the other man’s mouth, his heart fluttering at the feeling of the tongue brushing his. Ryan hooked an arm around his neck as Shane pressed closer, his hands sliding down Ryan’s back to unashamedly grab his ass, pulling him up more firmly against him.

“I kinda wish you weren’t still so fucking hot,” said Shane breathlessly, feeling the fingers fumbling at his shirt collar, hurrying to unbutton more buttons. “And I honestly think you’ve got hotter.”

Ryan leaned in, pressing his lips to Shane’s bare chest, hands exploring him, his chest, his shoulders, and even in the current situation he could feel the strength in them, the power. He broke off, looking up at Shane with just his eyes.

“You sure you haven’t been working out or something?” Ryan leaned back, pulling the other man’s shirt open the rest of the way, eyes taking it all in. “Fuck me.”

“I don’t think I’ve changed!” Shane raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“You’ve lost the rich-man edge you had.”

“Rich-man edge?” Shane laughed. “I wanna know what that means.”

“The rich-man body!” Ryan shrugged. “It’s just- There’s no way you lost the weight without working out.”

“I haven’t worked out,” said Shane, suddenly seeming a bit defensive. “Why are you so insistent that I worked out?”

“I’m not!” Ryan looked him in the eye, and suddenly it was back. The same battle-bright feeling he used to get when he was interrogating. “I’m just curious.”

“Just curious?” Shane sat a bit more upright, eyes locked on the other man’s. “Curious about what, exactly? What I’ve been doing the past five years? What activities I've been up to?”

Ryan glared back at him, a hand on his chest to hold him a safe distance away. “What the fuck is your problem, Madej?”

“Oh, it’s Madej again, is it?”

“Okay, what the fuck has gotten into you?” Ryan didn’t look away, didn’t back down even an inch. “I just asked a question. No need to bite my head off.”

Shane still looked suspicious, wary of him. It made Ryan’s skin crawl with the old feelings flooding back. The old old feelings. He could almost feel the stuffiness of the interrogation room, the glaring lights. But this time, Shane wasn’t sitting across a table from him. No, Ryan was sitting across Shane himself.

“You know, you’re being a bit defensive here, Shane.” He searched the other man’s eyes, seeing the wall already in place behind them. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” The words were rough with anger, enough to make Ryan blink in surprise. Shane paused, swallowing. “I- Sorry, just… I didn’t mean for that to sound so-”

“Forget it.” Ryan got up, feeling Shane’s hands slide off him. “It’s fine. I get it. Whatever.”

Shane rested his head in his hand, his other hand on his knee to prop himself up. “Ryan, just-”

“No, Shane.” He picked up his shirt, angrily shaking it out, shrugging it on. “It’s my fault, really. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Shane raised his gaze at this, eyes just visible over his hand. “Elaborate.”

“Elaborate?” Ryan glared at the robotic tone, furious. “Stop talking to me as if I’m still your fucking enemy, Shane! You’re already pushing me away!”

Shane got to his feet, hands on his hips as he watched the shorter man irritably roll up his sleeves. “Well maybe I’m right, Ryan. Maybe we’re taking this a bit too fast.”

Ryan paused in his rolling, raising his head to give him a look that could’ve split a rock at ten paces. “A bit too fast?!”

Shane readied himself for the backlash of what he was about to say. “Think about it, Ryan! We go three years hating each other. A few weeks having a fucking affair or some shit. Then we don't see each other for five years. And now what? What, you think we’re fucking soulmates or something?”

“I almost died for you!”

Shane swallowed hard, his face reddening. “Ryan, don’t-”

“Don’t what? Remind you?” Ryan folded his arms firmly across his chest, facing him directly. “Is it too much for you, hm?”

“You seem to forget that the only reason you didn’t die is because I fucking saved you!” Shane jabbed a hard finger into his chest, pushing the shorter man back a step. “I went out on a fucking limb to save your life, Ryan! And then you didn’t even have the fucking decency to tell me you were alive!” He was shouting by the end, each word hot with defiance. “So get your fucking head out of your ass and stop thinking about your goddamn self!”

Ryan stared at him, face unreadable. “Shane Madej. You haven’t changed a bit.”

The words went right through his chest. Shane blinked rapidly, lowering his hand. “I- I have. I have changed.”

“You haven’t. You’re still just so- so manipulative. And you do it so well it makes me sick.” Ryan wasn’t too sure where the words were coming from; the same place he kept his memories, most likely. The same dark, lonely place. “I think you should go.”

Shane glared at him, fists clenched by his sides. “Just because I’m not like you doesn’t mean that I’m a bad person, Bergara.”

Ryan gave a sharp laugh. “Jesus, Shane. You’re a bad person no matter who you’re compared to.”

“And you suddenly have a problem with that now?”

“I’ve always had a problem with it.”

“Yeah. Remind me of that next time you click your fingers for me to fuck you.” Shane turned away before he saw the offended glare on the other man’s face. “I’ll see you whenever you decide to not be a little brat.”

“Oh get over yourself.”

“You’re  _trying_  to fight me here, Ryan.” He turned back, taking his keys off the kitchen table. “You’re actively trying to piss me off. Tell me what the hell is wrong with you.”

“Well you know what?” Ryan spread his arms. “I don’t know how else to act around you! Right now I think I’ve actually been kidding myself for the last five years thinking we- we had something.”

Shane folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the shorter man, and really wishing he’d do up his shirt. “Oh yeah, you were always such a romantic.”

Ryan turned his head away with a scoff, hands on his hips. After a few long seconds, he looked back. Shane’s eyes flickered up from watching his body a second too late.  _Oh you sly dog_. He watched as the taller man leaned back against the kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge of it either side.  _Stop looking at me like that_.

“What do you do?”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“What do you do now?” Ryan held his gaze. “What's the details? How do you force people to give money over?”

Shane shrugged. “I don’t see why I should tell you.”

“Right. Right, you really want to start this.”

“Did it ever end?”

Ryan stared at him. A dry smile pulled at the edge of his mouth. “No. I guess it didn’t really.”

Shane’s chest rose as he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers as he readjusted his grip on the kitchen counter. “Then that’s that.”

“Yeah. I guess that is that.”

Ryan went to walk away, but instead his feet carried him right over to Shane, who stood watching with an amused smile on his face. He laid a hand on the taller man’s stomach, just below his ribs, feeling his breaths slow and leisurely. Shane didn’t respond.

“You know what always pissed me off about you?”

Shane let his gaze flicker up and down the shorter man’s face. “Mm. What.”

“How you always kept so cool under pressure.” Ryan undid the other man’s shirt as he spoke, head tilted slightly as he watched his own hands work. “No matter what, you were always just… in control.”

Shane let out a shaky breath as he felt Ryan’s hands on his skin, moving up to his chest, roaming free. “And that pissed you off, did it.”

Ryan moved forwards so that their bodies were flush against each other, his hands still resting on the taller man’s chest, head tilted back. “Yeah. Yeah, it did.”

“How much.”

“So much it made me want to fuck it out of you.” Ryan let one hand slip down from Shane’s chest, raising an eyebrow at him. “And it worked for you too, it seems.”

Shane suddenly stepped forwards, catching the shorter man by his arms before he could fall, walking him back towards the bedroom. “Man, I am so glad I was oblivious to how hot you are back at the start. I would’ve lost to you in a heartbeat.” He closed the door behind them, pressing Ryan back against it, feeling the shorter man’s skin hot against his own. “Yeah, I would’ve let you walk all over me.”

“What was it that you called me?” Ryan felt the taller man’s fingers at his belt, swiftly unbuckling it again. “A pretty face with a badge, isn’t that what you said?”

“I said it once, and I’d say it as many times as you want me to.” Shane murmured the words against the shorter man’s neck, feeling Ryan’s hands firm against his back, holding him close. “God, you’re infuriating.”

Ryan closed his eyes as he felt the taller man’s lips travel lower, lower, down his chest, his stomach, his nose pushing into his skin, his hands following as he knelt down. Ryan tangled his fingers in the man’s thick hair, resting his head back against the wall, eyes still closed. And he was very, very glad that he and Shane hadn’t been like this when they’d been enemies. Yeah,  _that_  would’ve ended in total disaster.

* * *

So Ryan had been quite surprised when Shane had suggested he come around to his offices. A genuine effort to bridge some remaining gaps? It had left Ryan feeling quite warm and fuzzy indeed. Even when he was being directed to Shane's office by strangely intimidating men. All of the people who worked there seemed a bit edgy, a bit too hardcore to be accountants. Maybe debt collecting agencies were different? He wasn't sure. He let it slide.

He shut the door over behind him, looking around the office. It was laid out exactly the same way it had been in Perth; desk in front of the window, two chairs in front of the desk, and a line of filing cabinets to the left of the desk. And sitting at the desk was Shane, pen in hand, looking up at him over his glasses. It was a familiar scene. Ryan took a few seconds to settle himself, to not automatically slip into offense. Instead, he let himself appreciate how Shane sat at his desk like a king on his throne, arms resting on the sides of his chair as he convinced himself to relax at the sight of Ryan walking into his office.

"Well. Isn't this a bit of a kick in the teeth."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"It's weird." Shane sat back in his seat, crossing his legs in a figure four. "Having you come into my office and not about to be a pain in the ass."

Ryan nodded slowly, wandering over to the filing cabinets. He could feel Shane's eyes on him, sharp. He could almost sense the man getting more and more tense as he got closer to them. Ryan opened one of the drawers, sneaking a sidelong look at the other man, seeing the conflict of emotions on his face; panic, confusion, an internal battle of self-restraint. He didn't have to stop Ryan from looking in them, not anymore. But it was similar to watching a bull trying to restrain itself from running at a red cloak. By now, it was instinct. 

"You look like you're trying to fucking shoot lasers out of your eyes at me, dude." Ryan grinned at him, running a teasing finger along the files in the drawer. "Does this make you uncomfortable, hm?"

Shane spared him a wry smile. "More than you could imagine."

"What if I took one out?" Ryan threw him a scandalously surprised look, a hand over his mouth, the other still in the drawer. "What if I took out one of these files and- and  _read_  it?" 

Shane raised an eyebrow, sitting back in his chair, his pen hovering just at the corner of his mouth. He nodded at the other man to approach, a flippant gesture. "C'mere."

Ryan closed the drawer, smiling slyly at him as he crossed the small space between them. He let Shane take hold of him, pull him down onto his lap, one arm supporting his back, the other hand running down his chest, his side, grabbing his hip. Shane smiled, looking down at him from under heavy lids. 

"You know one thing we haven't gotten around to doing?" he said quietly, feeling Ryan's hand resting against the back of his neck. "Fucking in an office. Which is quite surprising, considering."

Ryan grinned at him, adjusting himself so that he was facing the desk, the other man's arms slipping around his waist. "You know, I've always been curious what the world looks like through the eyes of Shane Madej." He felt Shane's chin rest on his shoulder, mouth against his neck. "How does one go about such devilish deeds, hm?"

"I don't know, Ryan. I don't think you're bad enough."

Ryan turned his head, feeling Shane's breath on his lips. "Oh, really?"

"Mm." Shane took his hand, pushing it forwards, placing it on the pen he'd just put down. "Do you think you're bad enough?"

Ryan picked up the pen, Shane's hand still resting on the back of his. "To do what, exactly?"

Shane was quiet for a moment. "See that letter."

Ryan glanced at it, laid out in the center of the desk. He also saw something else. Some gold and shiny, with the end of a name on it. "Yeah. I see it."

"That is a letter threatening to take the recipient to court," said Shane in a low voice, guiding Ryan's hand towards the blank signature line. "A single mother. She took out a loan from my... client, and now she can't pay it back." He felt Ryan take a deep breath, his shoulders pushing into Shane's chest. "What do you think of that?"

Ryan swallowed, looking at the line, at how close the pen now was to it. "I don't like it. To be honest."

"Mm. I expected as much." Shane took the pen from Ryan's fingers, using it to sign the letter with a flourish. He put the pen down firmly. "Because you're not bad enough."

Ryan stared at the letter, scanning the intimidating contents. "How do you do that."

"Do what?"

"Not care." 

Shane watched what little he could of the other man's face, the perfect profile. "Does it make you uncomfortable."

"Yes."  _It makes me feel sick_.

Shane sighed quietly, placing a finger lightly against Ryan's jaw, turning his head to look at him. "This is what I do, Ryan. Are you going to be okay with that."

Ryan searched his eyes, and it felt like he was poking a brick wall with a stick. "I don't know."

"You don't know." Shane nodded, turning the seat so that Ryan could stand up. "Well. That's unfortunate."

Ryan moved towards the cabinets again, hands on his lower back, head ducked. He turned, looking the other man up and down, pensive. "What if I say no? Would that change anything?"

Shane tilted his head up slightly, leaning back in his chair. "No."

 _Right. Right, so we're still like that_. Ryan respected it, in a way. Keeping a bit of distance. Acknowledging their past. He glanced around the office, letting himself wander. 

"This is pretty lavish, dude. You must be pretty high up."

Shane shrugged, watching him cross the floor. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"You ever considered just going into normal accounting?"

He laughed. "No. No, I haven't considered that." 

"Why not?"

"I've tried it. But then I slipped into money-laundering. Then embezzlement, and forgery, and all that stuff followed." Shane got to his feet, crossing the room towards Ryan as he spoke. "I can't help it, really. I'm attracted to danger. Or danger's attracted to me."

Ryan watched him come closer, an eyebrow raised. "That should've sounded lame, but you did that thing you do where you made it sound hot."

"Mm." Shane smiled at him, slipping an arm around Ryan's waist, pulling him in against him. "Look, what I'm doing here is all legal. Alright? So you're not betraying your honor by being associated with me."

Ryan looked up at him, just a tad surprised. "Wait, that's why you asked me to come by?"

"Well... Yeah." 

"That's... That's very sweet." Ryan smiled at the blush that appeared on the taller man's cheeks, laughing. "Shane, you softie."

"I want us to work out, Ryan!" He shrugged, still smiling bashfully. "I do. And I know we're gonna have some issues, but you make me happy. And I want you to stick around."

Ryan's heart skipped at the words, his lips pressed together to stop his wide smile from becoming too blinding. "That means a hell of a lot to me, Shane. Thanks."

"It's okay." Shane kissed him, a quick, soft one. "I like you, Ryan. I really do. But I think we're both gonna need to try a bit harder to move on from... ourselves, I guess?"

Ryan nodded, resting his head on the taller man's chest, closing his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"So no more covert questionings," said Shane quietly, his chin resting on Ryan's head. "From either of us."

Ryan nodded again. "Yeah."

So Ryan left to go to his own work, the panic already beginning to rise in his chest, the sound of Shane's soothing voice still in his head not really helping. Shane. Shane, running a debt collecting agency, from a building, from a desk, on which sat a tipped-over nameplate with "...sworth" at the end of it. Ryan took a shaky breath as he hopped up the steps to the station, bumping into Tinsley almost instantly. 

"Ah, detective. You're just on time." Tinsley nodded towards the incident rooms, smiling at him. "We're just about to get started."

"Cool. Cool cool cool." Ryan swallowed as he followed him, slipping the silver badge onto his belt.

And a badge had never felt so heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/RCeRNpR09es
> 
> energy im Channeling for the next few chapters


	8. Like Lovers Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"That's how it goes, so take it like a grown up,_   
>  _Life's not a fairytale, it's hard to own up,_   
>  _Hire a hitman to take care of you,_   
>  _And end it like lovers do."_

"No, you guys go on ahead." Shane stayed sitting against the bonnet of his car, phone in hand. "I'll catch up with you in a bit."

"You sure, boss?"

He felt the kick of adrenaline go through him yet again at the title, at the fact that these people were there to do exactly what he said when he said it. "Yeah. You guys know what to do anyway, right?"

The woman, Kelsey, laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, we do." 

"Well then I'll be there in a bit." He shrugged. "Unless you can get it done before I even get there. Which would be very nice indeed."

She nodded, following the rest to the car. She was a surprisingly bubbly person, for someone who worked in such shady business. "I'll see if I can make that happen."

He straightened up off the bonnet as the car pulled away from the building. He couldn't go with them to collect this debt this time, not since he hadn't seen Sara in about two weeks. He felt a bit bad about it, but he'd been busy. Very busy. He'd had a whole sect of a business dumped in his hands, and even though he hadn't run such a thing in five years, he slipped back into the role as easily as if he'd never stopped. It was basically the same line of work as he used to do; accounting, but a bit extreme. Freestyle accounting, as he used to tell Ryan. He'd just turned to dump his empty coffee cup in the trash can up the street when he saw her coming towards him. He didn't slow. Neither did she. And even though they'd been in the same city for a year or so now, they hadn't seen each other once. Chicago was a big city, after all.

They half-circled each other as they came to a slow halt, not taking their eyes off each other. Shane didn't even have to look down that much; Horsley was tall, taller than Ryan, coming up to Shane's chin. He wished she was smaller. He wished she was stupider. But unfortunately, she was tall, and she was very, very smart. Shane narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well, Shane." She kept her face carefully guarded, made of stone. "I haven't seen you in a few years. Probably because you've been _very_ busy, haven't you."

He didn't reply, looking at her like she was an unskippable Youtube ad. 

She raised an eyebrow. "Still angry?"

Again, no response. Just the cold, merciless look in his eyes.

"It was business." It was a simple statement. "I didn't have to tell you that I knew what Banjo was going to do to you."

"You lied to me," he said, quietly. "You saw me after what happened, and you still didn't tell me you knew the whole time."

"Yes, I saw you. You were a blubbering mess."

His jaw clenched, he turned his head to look directly at her, his body too. "Maybe I was. But I'm not anymore."

She shrugged, taking a sip from her coffee. "No. Unfortunately not. But you shouldn't have laid a finger on Banjo."

"I laid more than a finger on him, I'll tell you that." 

"You made a big mistake there, Shane."

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life," he replied. "But that wasn't one of them."

"Oh, it was." She watched him, eyes as sharp as knives. "You're alone. You have no allies. You're vulnerable. I was leaving you alone, until you took Banjo." Her voice went cold. "And now I'm done staying on the defense, Madej."

He didn't reply, the unrestrained hatred clear on his face. She wasn't worth a reply. But he also didn't wanted to accidentally let anything slip. It appeared that she didn't know about Goldsworth. No one knew about Goldsworth. He wasn't even dead yet. Oh, he was on his way there, but it was going as slow as Shane could make it. He took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose as he continued glaring through Horsley's cruel words. Ricky was going to die tonight. He'd just decided.

"And you have no idea what I'm going to do when I get my hands on you," she said, simple and to the point. "I don't get angry a lot, Madej. But you've made me very, _very_ angry. And your reign of terror is going to end soon." She raised her hands, clicking her fingers. "...Just like that."

He stayed silent, head tilted slightly as he continued staring her right in the eye. He simply stood for a long moment, an unnervingly calm look in his eyes. Then he leaned down, taking a quiet breath before whispering the words right into her ear, pronouncing them nice and cool.

“I'm coming for you.”

Then he straightened up again, gave her an amicable nod, and stepped around her, leaving Horsley to try and control the uncomfortable chills that had just went up her spine.

* * *

"Gone pretty quiet, hasn't he?"

Ryan tore his gaze from the window, still sitting unnecessarily low in his seat. "Hm?"

"Dexter." Tinsley sat in beside him, handing a coffee over. "No more dead criminals turning up around the place. Not for the past few days, anyway."

Ryan accepted the coffee, sitting a bit more upright. "Yeah. But there's never a bunch at once, are they?"

"Well, no. But for a while there it felt like he was really stepping it up." 

Ryan swallowed his mouthful of coffee. "Yeah? I didn't notice. Really."

"And he-"

"Could be a she," interrupted Ryan, still keeping an eye out. It was early in the morning, just before dawn, but Shane was going out at all hours recently. For 'work', he'd say. "Probably a she. It's all very premeditated. Men tend to be more reckless."

Tinsley nodded slowly, wiping the cappuccino foam off his heavy mustache as he watched the street outside. "Again, you're right. You're a smart guy, Ryan."

He spared Tinsley a sidelong look, smiling. "Thanks. And thanks for the job. Again."

"Not having you working for the law is more of a loss than anything else," said Tinsley firmly, looking at him. "PI's are too easily corrupted, I find. But then again, you seem pretty set in your views."

Ryan raised an eyebrow at this. "Set in my views?"

"You have a good sense of what's right and wrong," said Tinsley with a wise nod. "A good moral compass."

Ryan took another sip of coffee, the liquid scalding hot. He swallowed it. "Yeah. I suppose I do."

A pause. "You don't like that about yourself?"

Ryan turned his head to look at him, quiet for a moment. "It's gets in the way, sometimes. But I suppose I like it."

"You _should_ like it." Tinsley gestured with his coffee like he was having a drink with a friend. "Not everyone has it, Bergara. As you probably know by now."

"I know." He turned his head aside, gaze lowered. "I know. Unlucky them."

The fuzz of the radio ruined their little moment. Ryan sat upright at the urgency of the officer's report, of the mentioned of Horsley & Co Solicitors. This seemed to shock Tinsley into action too. The engine revved, the car speeding down the street, sirens blaring. It had already flown around the corner by the time Ryan managed to ram his seatbelt on, struggling to keep his coffee steady at the same time. 

Horsley's wasn't too far. They were one of the first ones on the scene. And what a scene it was. Ryan didn't take his eyes from him as he got out of the car, closing the door, his movements stiff. He heard Tinsley whistling through his teeth.

"Well shit." Tinsley moved towards the lamp post, hands on his hips. "Guess I spoke too soon, huh."

Horsley's building had been closed for the day. The boss herself had arrived first, and it was the one and only time Ryan could firmly say that she looked terrified, shaken, her hands clasped around a coffee that one of the cops had brought for her. Her red eyes found Ryan, she got to her feet, crossing the street towards him.

"Ryan, I have no idea where this came from. I swear."

He spared a fleeting glance her way, but he couldn't take his eyes off him. He moved past her, footsteps loud against the pavement as he crossed the road towards the lamp post. It was definitely him. What was left of him, anyway. Hanging from the lamp post, swaying slightly in the cool breeze. Everyone else felt sick. Ryan didn't feel anything. How could he? He knew Goldsworth more than the rest of them ever could have. 

"Get him down," ordered Tinsley, a few of the surrounding cops rushing to call the fire department. "Get rid of him before the city wakes up. Don't want this one getting too hyped-up."

"Why not?" asked Ryan, voice flat. 

"Because this one is different," said Tinsley, looking at him, a bit concerned about how much the other man was fixated on the remains dangling above them. "Do you know why I think it's different?"

Ryan nodded. "This one's a sign."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Someone wanted to send a message." Ryan avoided Horsley's eyes, but he could feel her stare like needles in his skin. "A threat." _A promise_.

"Oh, you're good." Tinsley wagged a finger at him as he passed by. "Keep this up and you'll be chief in a few years, Bergara."

Ryan distractedly rubbed at the scar on his cheek, eyes glued to Goldsworth's corpse. It was a ruin. Missing a leg, missing its hands. But still, Ryan didn't feel anything. He wasn't happy, but he sure as hell wasn't sad either. He turned away, letting his eyes meet Horsley's. She raised an eyebrow at him. Not a _what do you think?_ More of a _what are you going to do about this?_ He shoved his hands into his pockets, moving back towards the squad car. He needed to sit down. 

He sat on the passenger seat, door still open, waiting for the fire department to arrive. And the two people who arrived on the scene, concerned citizens, looked a tad too familiar. A man and a woman, both just a bit too intimidating to be considered accountants. Ryan sat up straighter, his stomach churning at the sight of them. But debt collectors. Debt collectors were different, he'd supposed.

Horsley appeared beside him, observing his face as he looked up at her. "Well, you must feel like celebrating."

"No." He looked away, back at the lamp post. "No. No one deserves to die like that."

"I agree. If you're going to get rid of an enemy, just do it."

Ryan nodded, his gaze distant. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

* * *

The autopsy results from Goldsworth's body had shown a large amount of strychnine in his bloodstream. _Incredibly harmful_ , the coroner had said. _And very painful. A very slow death_. Ryan had added the photo of the body to the top of the pyramid; it was by far the most vicious death to date. He'd gone around to Shane's offices during his lunch. Unrelated. _Definitely_ unrelated. Ryan made sure to take off his badge, scruff up his hair, make himself appear a bit less federal. But he wasn't too sure as to why. What Shane was doing now was legal. It was wandering the line, but it was still legal. He shouldn't _have_ to hide the badge. But no matter what way he pictured the revelation going, it didn't end well. 

"Well, how's work?"

Ryan blinked himself out of his thoughts, raising his head. "Uh, yeah. Busy. That, uh, that Dexter guy struck again this morning, so."

Shane raised his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair. The lamp on his desk was on just high enough for him to see what he'd been writing. "Oh yeah? What did he do this time?"

Ryan stared at him, letting a smile flicker across his face. "Baked cookies for the homeless. What do you think he did, Shane?"

Shane arched an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Right. Fair."

"He killed a guy. Hung the remains on the street."

"Oh. Gruesome."

Ryan nodded, still watching him. "Yeah. Very."

Shane got to his feet, stretching leisurely. "Where abouts? C'mon, gimme the details."

"Oh, outside a solicitor's office across town." Ryan watched the taller man go to the filing cabinets, searching through them, keeping his back to Ryan. "You won't believe who it was."

"Oh yeah? Try me."

"Ricky Goldsworth."

Shane paused at this, half-turning to look right at him. " _The_ Ricky Goldsworth?"

"Yeah." Ryan gave his side an absent-minded rub, the small gathering of scars from the emergency surgery he'd had to get that night. "The real deal."

Shane closed the drawer, casually, letting his hand rest on it. "And what do you think of what happened to him."

"I think whoever did it must be insane," replied Ryan, still holding his gaze. "He was fucked up. Beyond recognition."

A pause. "Some people deserve a death like that."

"No. I don't think they do."

Shane stared at him for a long moment. Then he moved back to his desk, sitting down, legs crossed. "Even after what he did to you, you think he deserved mercy."

Ryan straightened up with a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. "I'll tell you the truth; I wanted him to die. And I don't care that he's dead." He gaze grew distant as he remembered the details from the autopsy all over again. "But not like that."

"Mm. Not like that." Shane rubbed a pensive hand over his mouth, feeling the stubble scratching his hand. "Very honorable of you, Ryan."

His gaze sharpened again at the slight patronizing tone of the words. "And what does that mean?"

Shane spread his hands, a nonchalant gesture. "It doesn't mean anything."

"If you have something to say, just say it."

Shane narrowed his eyes at this, tilting his head slightly. "You know, you seemed a bit on edge coming in here, Ryan. Is there something _you_ want to say, maybe?"

Ryan rested his elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked as he readied himself. "Just- I-"

"C'mon. Spit it out."

"Did you do it." Ryan looked him right in the eye, watching for even a flicker of the truth. "Did you have anything to do with Goldsworth's death. Or McClintock's. Or any of them."

Shane's face was impenetrable, an eyebrow arched. "No."

 _And here I was, thinking we weren't supposed to be lying to each other_. "Right."

"I thought we agreed there'd be no more of this bullshit between us, Bergara."

"You said no more covert questioning." Ryan shrugged. "This isn't covert."

"So it's a questioning."

"Well I'm not a fucking idiot, Madej." He got to his feet, hands on his hips as he moved to stand right across the desk from him. "Or is there someone out there who somehow has the exact same enemies you do."

"If they did, you'd be hanging from a lamp post down the street too."

Ryan froze at this, his hands tightening on his own hips, enough to bunch the shirt up in his fingers. "And I'm your enemy, am I?"

Shane's voice was cold, clipped. "I don't know. Are you?"

Ryan stayed silent, his jaw set. He kept his eyes on Shane's as the taller man got to his feet, the two of them watching each other like two tigers who had encroached on each other's territory. _If you back down, I'll let this go. If you don't, I'll be showing my claws before you know it_. 

"Why are you fucking off at two and three in the morning?" demanded Ryan, deciding that this time, he wasn't going to let it slide. "What's that about, hm?"

"I _told_ you, it's my fucking job."

"Stop treating me like I'm a fucking idiot, Madej. Debt collecting agencies work the exact same hours as every other business." He rested his hands on the desk between them, propping himself up. "What the hell are you doing when you leave."

Shane gave a dry laugh, an unamused one. "Wait, wait, the guy who won't even tell me the fucking _basics_ about his job thinks he can talk to me like this?"

Ryan took a deep breath, an attempt at calming himself down. It didn't work. "I know who used to own this building. I know who used to work here."

Shane's face went stiff, as it always did when he started panicking. "Well I don't."

"This is where Goldsworth used to work." Ryan tapped the desk. "This was his. You left his fucking nameplate on it, you idiot."

Shane suddenly circled the desk, striding right around to him, a furious glare on his face. "And so fucking what. Even if I did kill him, what would you do, huh? Sell me out? Show me that you're still the little prick that you used to be?"

Ryan was breathing heavily, head tilted back to look him in the eye, one hand still on the desk. "I don't know what I'd do."

"Well that's just not fucking good enough, Bergara." He gritted his teeth at the impudent look on the shorter man's face, the one that simply screamed _I think I'm better than you_. "Get out. Now. We can talk later."

"I want to talk now."

"I have work to do."

"Oh, I'm sure you do. I guess I'll be finding another fucking body on the road somewhere tomorrow then." Ryan went to step around him, feeling the hand grab his arm, pulling him back with enough force to have him stumble against the desk. He glared up at him, an indignant rage on his face. "Get your hand off me."

Shane was watching his face, suddenly much too calm to be safe. "Why would you be finding the bodies."

Ryan's blood went cold. He didn't reply. He wasn't too sure how to. 

"Ryan." Shane's grip was tight, painfully tight, fingers digging into his arm. "Answer me. Why would you be finding the bodies."

He swallowed hard. "Why do you think."

The taller man didn't let go, even though he could feel the arm tensing in his grip, ready to retaliate at a second's notice. "Are you helping the cops. Are the cops your 'client'."

Ryan tilted his chin up, his heart pounding in his chest. "What if I told you I am one."

The silence was deathly. Ryan thought his arm was going to be ripped right off. 

"Are you a fucking cop," said Shane quietly, dangerously quiet, the rage palpable. His unblinking gaze was intense, one that Ryan was well used to from years of being subjected to it. "Did you fucking lie to me."

"No," replied Ryan firmly. "I was a PI. But Tinsley asked for me to take a permanent position on the force here."

"And when did he ask you that little question."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Well I don't care." He let out a sharp hiss as the grip tightened even more on his arm, giving the taller man a shove to let go. "Get your fucking hand off me, Madej. I mean it."

"Why didn't you tell me." Shane was pressed right against him, keeping him pinned against the desk. "Why didn't you fucking tell me."

"I didn't see why it would matter," replied Ryan heatedly, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk behind him. "Since you aren't doing anything illegal. Right?"

A quiet exhale. "Right."

Shane finally released the shorter man, keeping his head turned aside as Ryan slipped out from between him and the desk. He turned to see the shorter man rubbing his arm, a dark glare on his face. Oh, that look. He remembered that look. He turned to face it fully, folding his arms across his chest. Ryan snatched his jacket from the back of the chair he'd been sitting on, his arm still hurting. Not that he'd even consider showing it. He shrugged it on, still glaring at the taller man as he did so. 

"I think you should stay in your own place tonight," said Ryan as he strode past, his arm brushing off Shane's.

"No fucking problem." Shane half-turned to watch him leave, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Enjoy the rest of your day. Detective."

Ryan paused with the door open, still gripping the side of it. He glared back over his shoulder at him, a challenging look.

"Oh, sorry, did that upset you?" Shane sat back down at his desk, legs crossed in a figure four. "My sincerest apologies."

"No. You just reminded me of something." Ryan took his badge from his jacket pocket, seeing the hateful glint in the other man's eyes as he slipped it onto his belt. "Can't exactly get back to my job without this."

Shane got to his feet again, storming right over to him, seeing Ryan close the door, shrug his coat back off, throw it aside. He grabbed hold of the shorter man by the collar of his shirt with one hand, his other hand ripping the badge right off his belt and flinging it behind him. The door rattled on its hinges as Shane drove the shorter man back against it, hearing the sharp gasp upon impact. Then Ryan had a hold of his tie, yanking him down into a furious kiss, his arm hooking around Shane's neck, pulling him in so fiercely that Shane's hands reflexively landed on the door to stop himself from falling. 

"God, fuck you." Shane pulled him away from the door, roughly walking him back into the office, tearing the shorter man's shirt open as he did so. "You drive me fucking insane."

Ryan hurriedly undid the taller man's tie, feeling the fingers now at his belt as he bumped back against the desk. "You're such a fucking-"

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up." Shane shoved him flat on the desk, hard enough to make the contents rattle. "I'm gonna fuck you right here, on Goldsworth's old desk. On a dead man's desk. Does that fuck with your honor, hm?"

Ryan gritted his teeth, hearing the taller man unbuckling his belt. He went to sit upright, Shane's hand landing on his chest, pushing him back down again. So he took hold of Shane's wrist, bringing the hand to his throat, feeling the fingers immediately slip around it. Then he tangled a fist in Shane's hair, yanking his head down, ignoring the sharp curse as he did so. Shane went to straighten up again, his hands slipping on the desk as Ryan's arm fixed around his neck, pulling him back down.

"I want you to do it," said Ryan right into his ear, his breaths shaky. "How about that."

Shane turned his head so that their mouths were hovering inches apart, their panted breaths mingling. "I like that. I like it a lot."

Ryan let himself smile. A small one. A small, sly one. He pulled Shane down into a hard kiss, feeling the returned hunger, the fiery passion behind it. Shane reached down, pulling Ryan's legs up either side of him, feeling them hook around his waist.

A knock on the door. "Mister Madej? Can I-"

"No!" he called back, his lowered gaze on Ryan's lips, hands slipping under his open shirt, running down his waist. "No. Give me an hour or so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't mean for this to be going down the gardner museum path but i cant help it!!!!! it's the way it's taking me i can't speak for the gods
> 
> lmao if u know the song in the title then u know how this whole thing is gonna go down boi


	9. Distraction and Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update, i was on vacation babyyyy

Ryan closed the car door behind him, staring at the building that Tinsley was striding towards. When he'd said they were going to Goldsworth's old place, he'd assumed they were going to his home. Not his offices. Shit.

Ryan followed him up the steps, his eyes wide. "Wait, dude! Why are we going in here?"

Tinsley threw him a frown. "Well, it was Goldsworth's old place of work. Have to have a poke around, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Right." _Fuck_.

The receptionist gave Ryan an odd look as he followed Tinsley through the doors into the offices. He pretended not to recognize her. He pretended that he most definitely had not been in the building only a day ago, doing something very inappropriate indeed in the office just down the corridor. She looked a bit baffled; it's not every day that a man who had been getting loudly fucked by your boss turns out to be a cop. So she pointed Goldsworth's old office out to them, and sat back, and sent Shane a warning text.

Ryan hesitated before following Tinsley into the office. Yes, Shane knew he was a cop now. But he'd also made it very clear that he didn't approve, and that he'd jump at the chance for Ryan to slip up. Even though they were practically dating. Which was _another_ thing they hadn't discussed. Were they official? Were they just fucking? The ambiguous issues between them were beginning to pile up, a feeling that Ryan didn't really appreciate. So he gathered himself, and stepped into the office.

Shane's eyes flickered to him, just for a split second. Then he continued talking to Tinsley, chatting away, all amicable and cooperative and charming. Just like he'd been with Ryan at the very beginning. 

"This is detective Ryan Bergara." Tinsley nodded at the approaching Ryan, smiling at him. "Ryan, this is-"

"I know who he is." Ryan wasn't exactly too sure about how to move forwards, trying to communicate with the taller man via eye contact only. "We've met before."

"Mm." Shane extended a hand, giving Ryan's a firm shake, all formal and appropriately distant, as if he hadn't had the shorter man bent over the very desk beside them barely twenty-four hours beforehand. "Nice to meet you again, detective."

Tinsley's eyes widened. "Hold on. Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej... Aren't you the two-"

"How about we don't bring up whatever you're about to say," said Ryan, giving him a slight nudge. "And we just get on with this."

"I think that'd be the best path to take," said Shane, turning away, heading over to his desk. "So what would you like to know?"

Tinsley seemed a tad speechless, as if he'd just met two celebrities in the flesh. "The whole Tromp family thing. That was you two, right?"

"I said not to bring it up," hissed Ryan, nudging him again, harder this time. "It's over. It's in the past." _I wish_.

"Sorry, sorry, yeah, I-" He looked at Shane, he looked at Ryan, who were both looking at him. "Wow. Yeah, uh, are you two okay with this then?"

Shane shrugged. "I'm perfectly fine with it. Are you, Ryan?"

Ryan ignored his gaze, knowing there'd be some cheeky glint in his eyes. "Yes. I'm fine. It was a long time ago now. So let's get a move on, hm?"

Tinsley clapped his hands together, rubbing them. "Okay then! Uh, Mister Madej, how did you come to work here?"

"Oh, I knew Ricky for a while," replied Shane with an effortlessly casual air. "He invited me to work for him. I said yes. Only a few weeks ago."

"Right. And when he-"

"Do you have any proof of this invitation?" Ryan didn't flinch as Shane's gaze switched to meet his. "Any phone calls? Witnesses?"

Shane sat down behind the desk, crossing his legs in a figure four. " _Witnesses_. What a formal way of putting it."

"Well this is a formal investigation," replied Ryan just as coolly. "So I'd appreciate an answer."

"Yes. I have witnesses." He waved a vague hand. "Everyone in the building, actually. So close your eyes and point, Bergara."

Ryan shook his head at this, turning away with a disapproving 'tsk'. He let Tinsley continue with the questions, moving along the desk, searching for it. For the nameplate. It was gone. He raised his gaze to look at Shane, who met it for the slightest of seconds. _You knew we were coming_. Ryan straightened up, hands on his hips. _But who told you?_ He was ticked off, really. Ticked off at how Shane always seemed to land on his feet, always seemed to hit the ground running, slipping back into his position of power like he'd never left it. And while he was thinking these thoughts, Shane was thinking similar ones; how Ryan could get dismissed from the force in Australia for such controversial reasons, yet end up in Chicago, doing exactly what he'd been doing, and still be as irritatingly good at it. Shane gave him a quick once-over, an eyebrow raised. 

"And do you know anyone who might've wanted to hurt Mister Goldsworth?" asked Tinsley. 

Shane laughed sharply. "Yeah, give me an hour and I'll write you a list."

"So a lot?"

"A lot." Shane shrugged, closing his eyes as he did so before looking back up at him. "Some more than others."

Ryan folded his arms across his chest, moving to stand beside Tinsley. "And who are the some?"

Shane tilted his head back to look at him, an easy smile on his face. "I can't disclose confidential client information. Apologies."

"You can to us." Ryan stepped around Tinsley, hating how Shane chose today to look particularly attractive; a navy shirt, a light beard, his hair effortlessly tousled. Shane smiled at him. Ryan didn't smile back. "C'mon. Who would've wanted to hurt him. _Really_ hurt him." Ryan leaned against the desk, not taking his eyes from the other man's. "Anyone who maybe had some sort of personal vendetta, maybe?"

Shane's eyes flashed a warning. "I can't disclose that information."

"You have to."

He spread his arms, a nonchalant gesture. "I don't see an arrest warrant anywhere. Unless you have one hidden up your sleeve, hm?"

Ryan looked away for a second, taking a deep breath. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to."

"Ah, you see, there it is." Shane got to his feet, a playful eyebrow raised as he pointed a finger at them both in turn. "I know how this stuff works. I'll say something here and then you'll twist it to fit whatever you need it to fit, and I won't have any recording or witnesses to back me up."

"Witnesses." Ryan gave him a dry smile. "How formal."

Shane shrugged, hands on his hips. "I can't give you client information. It's against protocol. And that's that."

"Okay. That's a fair stance." Tinsley took off his hat to run a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "What did Goldsworth do, anyway?"

"Oh, you know the stuff they said in the papers. All of that."

Ryan watched Shane as the taller man stepped around him, turning to follow. "Pretty illegal stuff, then."

"Mm. Very illegal." Shane went to a filing cabinet, pulling it open, rifling through it. "I have his- Yeah, here it is." He turned around, handing a leather bound diary over. "This was his. He-"

"Why is it in your office?"  

Shane stared at him, halfway to handing it to Tinsley. "Is that suspicious to you or something?"

"Well it doesn't make sense, really." Ryan could feel Tinsley watching him, waiting. "I mean, why would Goldsworth's diary be in your office in a filing cabinet."

Shane shrugged, passing the diary to Tinsley. "Just where it wound up, I guess. It's a bit of an old one."

"Just where it wound up," repeated Ryan, his eyes locked on Shane's as Tinsley turned away, flipping through the diary. "Anything else like that just wind up in those cabinets?"

Shane shrugged, turning away, readjusting his sleeves around his elbows. "Maybe. Maybe not. They're chockablock with crap, to be honest."

"Then perhaps I could have a look?"

Shane paused at this, turning on his heel to face him. His eyes flickered to the distracted Tinsley, then back to Ryan, a clear warning in them. "No search warrant, no searching, I'm afraid."

"Hm. Suspicious."

"Not suspicious. Just following the rules like a good American citizen, Bergara." He sat back down at his desk, tapping out an agitated rhythm on the arm of his chair. "If you're gonna wander in here still carrying certain prejudices on your shoulders, then I'd like you to leave."

"It's only prejudice if my suspicions are based on nothing." Ryan stood across the desk from him, arms folded. "Which mine aren't. So no, I won't be leaving."

"Are you sure you two can do this whole thing?" Tinsley was watching them over the top of the diary, pushing his glasses up in his nose to observe their hostility more clearly. "I don't want this blown out of proportion."

Ryan turned to reply, but as usual, Shane spoke first.

"Maybe we can just have a chat," he said, all relaxed confidence as he sat back in his chair. "In private. Just to set some boundaries."

Tinsley glanced at Ryan for approval, leaving the room when he received a nod. The door had barely closed before Shane was on his feet, leaning across the desk to begin an argument of angry whispers.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed. "What the hell is going on, Ryan?"

"I didn't know we were coming here until the last minute!" Ryan glanced over his shoulder at the door, closing his eyes as he turned back. "Look. We're just here to see what could've happened to Goldsworth."

"I know that's why you're here. So stop trying to throw me under the bus."

"I'm not," replied Ryan defensively. "Every question I've asked has been perfectly valid. Your answers, however, have not been. Because so far, they've been non-existent."

Shane straightened up, hands on his hips, an eyebrow raised in open disapproval. "You really think I sliced Goldsworth up like a salami, huh?"

"I have no reason _not_ to think that."

"Then you should be on your fucking knees _thanking_ me for it," said Shane harshly. "Not trying to make me look so fucking guilty."

"Well are you?"

"Am I what? Guilty?"

"Yeah. Guilty." Ryan held his steely gaze, hands pressed to the desk between them. "I know you, Shane. I know what you're like when someone pisses you off. And Goldsworth really, _really_ pissed you off. So just tell me; did you kill him."

"Don't start this whole 'I know you' bullshit, alright?" 

"Answer the question."

Shane took a deep breath, letting it out nice and slow. "Well if you don't already know the answer, then maybe you don't know me at all."

Ryan watched him turn away, move to the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the low evening light. "I think you did it."

Shane didn't reply for a long moment, standing with his hands in his pockets. He half-turned to look at him, face guarded. "Hm. Do you."

"I think you have it in you to do something like that." Ryan kept his voice low, not just because of Tinsley waiting outside, but because he was scared of his own words. "When you think someone deserves something, that's it. You won't stop until they get what you think they deserve."

Shane watched him in silence. "Then maybe you should be more careful around me, Ryan."

"Why." Ryan circled the desk as he spoke, joining him at the window. "What do you think I deserve."

"I can't quite remember." Shane looked down his nose at him, at his stupid little baby face that hid a mind just as sharp as his own. "But it's coming back to me."

Ryan felt a strange mix of feelings at these words. He turned away, blinking back the surprise tears. Well. That had hurt. That had been a verbal punch in the stomach. So he moved back to the door in silence, opening it, letting Tinsley back in. And he couldn't look at Shane, and Shane couldn't look at him, and they began to really consider the fact that maybe they just weren't supposed to work out. 

* * *

"They're tearing each other apart, apparently."

Norris smiled at this, her coffee halfway to her mouth. "You know, you're really a bit of a genius, Miss Horsley."

"Shane should never have let his feelings become public knowledge," she shrugged, adjusting her scarf more firmly around her neck. "I'm just using what's laid out before me."

The air was crisp and cold, the leaves golden and red and orange and yellow, fluttering to the ground as they made their way through the park. Just two girls out for lunch, plotting the demise of their enemies. 

"Has Tinsley realized yet?"

Horsley shook her head, rolling her eyes as she took another sip of coffee. "No, of course not. He's an intelligent man, but he always tries to see the best in people."

"Ah. A mistake."

"Mm." A simultaneous sip of coffees. "And how are things coming along on your side?"

"Nicely. Very nicely." Norris looked at her, pushing her dark frizzy curls back off her face. "How are you holding up, though? The Goldsworth thing, I mean."

Horsley gave a dry laugh. "I'll admit it, I was terrified. He really fucked the man up."

"And you're sure it was Shane who did it?"

"Definitely." Horsley gave her a serious look over her wire-framed glasses. "Which means your side has to come along nice and neat. Yes?"

Norris nodded, smiling. "Of course."

* * *

Ryan had just finished making his coffee when the door opened. It then closed. The sound of a coat being chucked onto the table followed. Then a pause.

“Well what the fuck was that about, hm?”

Ryan half-turned to look at him, mug halfway to his mouth. “The whole me doing my job thing? Or something else?”

Shane stood with his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised expectantly. “The whole you trying to catch me out thing. That’s what.”

“That’s what I meant by ‘doing my job’. Sorry if it got lost in translation somewhere there.”

“Ryan, you were actively trying to catch me out earlier. Not just doing your stupid job.”

“They’re literally the same thing.”

“They’re really not.” Shane moved towards him, hands still on his hips. He looked irritated, to say the least. “Look at me.”

Ryan lifted his head, looking right at him. “What.”

“Do you think I did it?” Shane searched his eyes as he asked the questions. “Do you think I coordinated all their deaths? Do you?”

Ryan swallowed the coffee in his mouth, leaning back against the table. “I don’t know.”

“Good.” Shane came to a halt barely a foot away, eyes fixed on the shorter man’s. “Because I don’t want you to forget who I am, Ryan. What I can do. Any of it.”

Ryan pushed off the table, closing the small space between them. The mug of hot coffee was all that separated them. “Where did you put the nameplate.”

Shane kept his face guarded. “What nameplate.”

“Don’t fuck with me here, Shane. I saw it yesterday. Goldsworth’s nameplate, on  _your_  desk.”

“You must’ve been seeing things.”

“Unfortunately not.” Ryan stared up at him for a long few seconds, willing the taller man to look away, to show even the slightest remorse. “I don’t think you understand the scale of this, Shane. If you’ve been killing these people, I’m going to have to take you down. Again.”

Shane smiled wryly at this, wanting to take the coffee and throw it right in the shorter man’s face. “I understand the scale more than you ever could, Ryan. What you’ve seen has just been the tip of the iceberg.”

Ryan returned the dry smile. “And we’re the Titanic, hm?”

“Oh, very poetic of you, Ryan.” Shane looked him up and down in open disdain as he turned away. "Take that off."

"Take what off."

"The stupid badge." Shane poured himself a coffee, not looking at him. "It pisses me off."

"Oh, that's very sad." Ryan yanked it off with a bit of attitude, chucking it onto the table. "If it pisses you off so much, why don't you just douse it in gasoline and light it up, hm?"

Shane laughed dryly, shaking his head. "God, I'm beginning to think I fucking hate you."

Ryan's heart skipped a beat at the words, and not in a nice way. "Then maybe you should leave."

The taller man leaned on the counter for a few long seconds before turning to face him, mug in one hand. "I actually have one question. Before I leave."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Shane gestured vaguely with his coffee. "How do you afford this place?"

Ryan rolled his eyes, moving towards the couches. "Oh here we go again."

"It doesn't add up, Ryan! You're a cop, not a CEO."

"I saved and saved and saved, Shane. In my little piggy bank."

"Fuck you." Shane followed him over to the couch, remaining standing as the shorter man sat down. "Why won't you just tell me things?"

"Because I don't know if I can _trust_ you, Shane." Ryan looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. "I mean, what were we thinking? Really? As if we haven't spent ninety percent of our lives hating each other?"

Shane gritted his teeth at the words, at how much sense they made. "I thought maybe you'd have changed."

"Changed from what? From being a cop?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"Well I thought you would've changed too, Shane." He angrily rolled up his sleeves, undid his tie, unbuttoned his collar as he spoke. "I thought 'hey, maybe Shane learned a lesson about the dangers and risks of being a high-profile criminal!'. But I guess not."

"The only thing I learned is to never give a shit about people," he replied sharply. "Because it'll just bite you in the ass one day."

"Oh boo hoo, edgelord." 

Shane closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath. "Jesus Christ, you're the worst."

Ryan looked up at him, arms folded across his chest as he sat back. "I hope you're not thinking of staying here tonight."

"Oh, definitely not." He raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of coffee. It burned. He didn't notice. "Staying in the same room as you for the night would push me over the edge. It really would."

Ryan shrugged. "Whatever. I don't care."

Shane crouched down in front of him, mug balanced in his hands. "You're acting like a fucking child."

Ryan leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees, his face inches from the other man's. "You're acting like a spoiled brat."

"I _am_ a spoiled brat, Ryan. You, however, are not a child."

Ryan couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't exactly an amused one, but it was a chuckle. "Right. Right, that's fair."

"And I made you laugh."

"Which means?"

Shane placed the mug aside, moving forwards onto his knees. "Which means I can do this."

Ryan let his eyes close as the other man's mouth met his, running a hand up through Shane's hair, feeling the hands slide up his thighs, under his shirt, holding him tightly. He let out a rough moan as Shane pushed forwards against him, pinning him back against the couch, their mouths still working against each other. He knew he should shove him away, tell him to leave. But damn, he was a good kisser, and an even better fuck. So he let his head tilt back as Shane's mouth migrated down to his throat, tongue brushing his skin, one hand around the back of his head, the other running over his body, up his stomach, pulling his shirt up with it. Ryan bit down hard on his lip to try and keep the sounds he wanted to make contained, letting Shane pull him forwards, mouth still working against his neck. Ryan pushed him back, moving with him, straddling him on the rug, pulling his shirt off over his head. He felt the kisses running down his side even before his shirt was fully off, deep and hungry. Ryan looked down at him from under heavy lids, running his fingers through the man's thick hair, Shane's hands gripping his waist, holding him in place as he let his lips and tongue have free reign. 

"Fuck." Ryan closed his eyes, tilting his head back. " _Fuck_."

He pushed Shane back on the rug, leaning down, hearing the low moans in his ear as he let his mouth run along Shane's jaw, pulling open his shirt, resting his hands on his chest. Shane let his hands slide down his back, grab his ass, feeling the sharp exhale against his neck as Ryan jumped slightly. Then Ryan's mouth was on his again, twice as hard, their bodies flush together, their heavy breaths the only sound in the apartment. 

Ryan's phone buzzed on the table. He ignored it, very much preoccupied in the current moment. It was just Horsley, and she didn't mind when he didn't answer. She knew exactly what he was doing when it rang out, anyway, and it was exactly what she wanted him to be doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/0oGrwGCRImY?list=RDMM0oGrwGCRImY&t=116
> 
> also this bit of this song is a Mood for this fic


	10. Drowning

He heard the door close. It was a quiet attempt, but he heard it nonetheless. How could he not have? He'd been lying awake for the past half hour, still a bit too tense to let himself slip into Dreamland. He'd heard Shane's phone buzz, he'd heard him get up, get dressed, all in a bit of a hurry. Ryan sat up, alone in the dark, staring at the door that had just closed. Then he swiftly threw on a jumper and jeans before running out after him, hurrying down the corridor, ignoring the fact that he was very tired and still a bit sore. Shane had definitely been venting some anger, that much had been clear. But so had Ryan, so he couldn't exactly say anything.

He decided to take the stairs, flying down it, footsteps echoing around the stairwell, reaching the bottom floor just in time to see Shane cross from the elevator and sneak out the main entrance to the apartments. Ryan stayed hidden as he silently followed, pressed against the wall as he watched the man's tall figure slink off down the street.

"You okay there?"

Ryan turned to face the night receptionist, sparing her a smile. "Yeah. Really good. Thanks."

He didn't get to see her worried smile as he hurried out the door, staying a safe distance as he followed Shane's distant figure pacing down the street. If Shane wasn't going to tell him where he was going at these stupid times in the morning, then he was just going to have to find out himself, wouldn't he? He rolled up his jumper sleeves, realizing that it was actually one of Shane's jumpers he'd put on. No wonder the sleeves were so long. It was freezing, but he didn't want to leave his hands covered. Just in case he needed to use them. Hopefully not.

Shane looked the perfect villain the entire walk there, hands in his long coat pockets, throwing suspicious glances over the high collar as he positively sneaked along the road. The streetlights cast his tall shadow against the walls. And a shorter shadow followed behind, expertly, staying well out of sight. 

* * *

He pushed open the door to the warehouse. It was an old warehouse, but if anyone ever attempted to open the door they would find that it swung easily on its oiled hinges. He kept his coat on, lighting up a cigarette as he crossed the large empty floor to the center of the room. The others waited in a group, like a murder of crows. The man's head was visible above the rest, the rope stretching up from it. He began visibly trembling as he saw Shane striding across the room, black coat fluttering slightly with the pace he was going at. He went right through the small group, right up to the chair the man was standing on. He didn't take his eyes from the man the entire time. 

"Mister Madej, please, I-"

"Well. I'm surprised, Joe. I'll admit it." Shane took the cigarette from his mouth, an icy look on his face as he kept his eyes on the man's. "But I knew one of you would turn out to be a Judas."

"I didn't tell her anything important! I didn't-"

"Save it." Shane tapped the ash from his cigarette. "You'll need to save all your excuses for when you get to hell's gates."

"I-"

Without hesitation, Shane's placed his foot against the chair, kicking it away from under the man. He didn't take his eyes away for even a second, placing the cigarette back in his mouth as the choking quickly shrank to silence. Then he turned to Kelsey, allowing the men behind him to take the body away, to clean up the scene. 

"I want that one hung outside Norris' home," he said quietly, seeing her nod in response. "And next time, don't wear a fucking fur coat to this shit. People will remember that."

"I was out!" she shrugged, and it was then she revealed the bottle of cider still in her hand. "Sorry bout it."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well-"

The sounds of a scuffle came from outside, followed by a yell, and the sound of a trash can toppling over. Shane was already halfway to the door, the others following, guns drawn. He skidded out onto the dark street, seeing one of his guys down on the ground, cupping a bloodied nose. The pavement was speckled with red. 

"What the fuck was-" Shane lifted his gaze just on time to see a familiar figure vanish around a corner up ahead, going at a flat-out sprint. "Shit."

"Shane, we-"

"Get him inside!" Shane was already racing down the street, coat billowing out behind him, cigarette sparking against the ground as he threw it behind him. 

The apartment wasn't that far away. He knew Ryan was faster than him. But Shane had grown up in Chicago, and he knew these backstreets inside-out.

* * *

The elevator wasn't on the ground floor. He didn't have time to wait. Ryan took the steps two at a time, grabbing hold of the banister to yank himself into sharp turns, his heart hammering in his chest at the speed he was going at, at the memory of what he'd just seen. He flew down the corridor, his hands shaking, struggling to get the key in the lock. When he got it in, he basically fell into the apartment, stumbling against the kitchen table, seeing the blood on his knuckles from hitting the man who'd caught him snooping. No, not the man. The _hench_ man. He could barely believe it, what he'd seen wouldn't register in his head. 

The door slammed open behind him, Shane storming into the apartment, breathing heavily, his eyes glittering angrily. Ryan backed away, a warning hand out, keeping the distance between them as he moved. 

"What did you see," demanded Shane, his voice more of a snarl than anything else. "What did you fucking see."

"I saw all of it, you lying piece of shit." Ryan felt the window against his back, icy cold. "It's been you. It's been you this whole fucking time. I _knew_ it was you."

"You followed me. You fucking followed me, you had no right to do that."

"Are you fucking serious?!" Ryan stared at him in bewilderment, a hand still raised. "You're a fucking murderer, Shane. You're a fucking killer."

Shane stayed a few feet away, glaring down at him. "They deserved it."

"They deserved it? That's all you have to say?"

"Every single one of them deserved it," he said fiercely, eyes fixed on the other man's. "And I'd do it all over again if I had the chance. And I'd make it twice as painful for each one of them."

"That's twenty seven people you've killed." Ryan watched his face, watched for a flicker of panic, of remorse. "Twenty seven fucking people."

"I didn't do them all myself."

"How many did you do yourself, huh?" Ryan gave a breathless laugh. "Just one? Just two? Oh, that's okay then. No fucking problemo."

"I called in a few favors that people owed me."

"That doesn't answer my fucking question." Ryan took a step forwards, fists clenched by his sides. "How many did you do yourself. How many did you directly kill with your own hands."

Shane stared at him, his shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath. "Three."

"Three." Ryan closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. "Jesus Christ, Shane. Jesus fucking Christ."

"Four now."

Ryan was quiet for a long moment, frozen in place. Then he buried his face in his hands, turning away, letting out a scream. Shane flinched at the sound, suddenly feeling a bit ill.

"Ryan, it's- I had reason to."

Ryan looked him up and down in complete disbelief, the horror in his eyes making Shane feel just a bit jittery. “Money laundering was different, Shane. I could push that aside. But you’re fucking killing people. You’re a murderer!”

Shane gritted his teeth at this. “They deserved it.”

“You can’t even deny it,” said Ryan quietly, unable to do anything but stand in shock. “You know what you’ve done. You’re aware of how bad it is. And that’s even worse.”

“They deserved it.”

“Stop saying that!”

“They did!” shouted Shane, finally snapping. “Every last one of them! Because of what they did to you!”

“What they did to me?” Ryan shook his head, quickly, eyes shut. “No. No, don’t even try and act as if I’m the reason you’re doing this.”

“You _are_ the reason.” Shane took a few steps towards him before stopping himself, realizing that if he came any closer, he actually wasn’t sure how Ryan would respond. “You’re the reason I’ve had this- this fucking rage inside me for the last five years. All I’ve thought about every fucking day is you, and what happened to you, and what they did to you, and why they did it. They did it because of me. I hurt you! I’m the root cause of what happened to you! It drove me fucking crazy, Ryan!”

“You didn’t have to kill people!”

“I thought you were dead!” shouted Shane, not taking his eyes from the shorter man’s. “And I wanted every last one of them dead too! I wanted to put them through the hell they put me through! I wanted some sort of fucking justice, Ryan! And what was I gonna do, huh? Skip down to the local fucking station and report them?”

“Well I wasn’t dead, you idiot!”

“Maybe you should’ve fucking told me that!” Shane moved closer, seeing the shorter man readjust his stance, fists still clenched. “If you had told me you were alive and fucking kicking, maybe I wouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you dare!” shouted Ryan, his eyes sparking with anger. “Don’t you dare blame me for what you’ve done!”

“I’m doing this for you! I’m doing this because there’s no other way in this world to get justice than to do it your damn self!”

“I don’t want those people dead! You’re doing this for yourself!”

“Ryan.”

“I want you to stop!” Ryan’s eyes were watery with anger, hot tears threatening to overflow. “Will you stop? Will you fucking stop if I get down on my knees and fucking beg you? Will you?” He waited for an answer. “WILL YOU?”

Shane didn’t look away. Not even a flicker of a glance. “No.”

Ryan was silent for a moment, lips pressed together in a firm line. “Great. That’s great. Really fucking fantastic.”

Shane stared at him. He wanted to reach out, and either hug him or strangle him. He wasn’t sure which one would win. He kept his hands to himself.

Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Horsley hired me.”

Shane froze, eyes fixed on the shorter man's face. "...Holly Horsley."

"She fucking hired me as a PI. It's why I'm here." Ryan spread his arms, a half-hearted gesture that quickly ended. "I've been being used. By both of you. By both of you fucking sociopaths."

"Ryan-"

"She brought me here because she wants me to catch you," he continued, his eyes staring at nothing as he quickly pieced everything together. "She wants to use me. I'm her fucking weapon in this- this _shitstorm_."

Shane had a hand on his stomach, like he was about to throw up. He wasn't sure whether he would or not. "Ryan, I didn't- I didn't know she hired you. I didn't know she..." He sat down, burying his face in his hands. He was silent. "I fucked up."

“She wants me to catch you.” Ryan watched the color drain from the other man’s face. “She wants me to catch ‘Dexter’. And you’re him. You’re a goddamn serial killer, Shane. Way to step up your profession.”

Shane swallowed hard, staring at him. “…You have to catch me.”

“Yes. And well, I guess I’ve fucking caught you.” Ryan shook his head, eyes closed, fists pressed against his temples. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.”

Shane looked him up and down, noticing how the other man was visibly shaking. “What are you going to do.”

Ryan opened his eyes, looking at him. And the sudden vulnerability in them was enough to twist the knife that had been in Shane’s heart for a long time now. “I don’t know.”

Shane swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden tears. "I can't stop now, Ryan. I literally can't."

Ryan sat down across from him, taking his hand, holding it in both of his. "Shane, I am _begging_ you to stop. To stop this." He lifted the hand to his mouth, kissing it. "Please."

"I can't. If I do, I'll die."

Ryan let his head hang, still holding the other man's hand. Shane's fingers tightened around his. They sat like this for a while, in the dark, in silence. Shane felt empty. Entirely hollow. He'd been taking a giant risk the entire time he'd been involving himself in this stuff, but he never thought he'd have anything important to lose. At the beginning, he thought he'd already lost the only thing that had become any way important to him. But here he was, with Ryan. And it turned out it was indeed possible for a heart to break twice. 

"I'm going to go out for a bit." Ryan didn't lift his head as he said this, his voice quiet. "Just for a walk. I need to think."

"Yeah. Of course."

So he went out. And he walked. And he thought. He thought about what he could do, how he could get Shane out of what he'd buried himself in. He thought about how stupid he was being, how he should definitely just let Shane get arrested, imprisoned, all of it. It was the law. But nowadays, the law didn't seem as important to him as it once did. He'd already gotten Shane out of trouble already, not that he'd told him. He'd wiped some files before he'd quit last time. Some select files from his past crimes, some details about where he'd been, where he was from. Because Shane had told him he'd go back to Chicago, that evening before the end. Better not to have cops waiting around, knowing his name, knowing what he'd done. Ryan closed his eyes, pausing outside the apartment. He was changing. He was changing for someone who clearly would never change for him. It had to end.

But Shane was already gone by the time he got back to the apartment. He was gone, along with anything he'd left there. So Ryan got into bed, and closed his eyes, and didn't sleep a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/29XGlYUlqfA
> 
> just so you know it's not gonna get THAT much sadder, here's the Mood song for the next few chaps


	11. Eyes on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature."_

"It's just a few questions."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I'm fine."

Tinsley ducked down slightly to look him right in the eye. "Are you sure? You can back out if you want. I'll do the answering."

"No." Ryan shook his head, straightening up. "No, I'm fine. I got it."

Tinsley smiled at him, giving him a warm pat on the back. "You sure do, Bergara."

Ryan smiled feebly as the chief turned away, closing his eyes. He was terrified. He'd always disliked press conferences, but only because they were time-consuming, and your words could be twisted so easily to fit the narrative that any journalist wanted. This was the first one he was about to do since Australia, however. And he knew full well what the press would start focusing on. So he took a deep breath, steeled himself, and walked into the room behind Tinsley. 

"Bergara, Detective Bergara!" The journalists swarmed forwards even before he reached the podium, waving their microphones like swords. "Is it true you have a suspect for the Dexter killings? How likely is it that your suspect is the real killer?"

He flashed them a small smile. "I'm literally about to answer what I can now. So just hold on a second." Fuck, he already felt ill.

But once he stood up at the podium, it actually went quite smoothly. The journalists asked who the suspect was, what evidence he had, what motive the killer could possibly have. He replied that he couldn't disclose the name of the suspect quite yet, for safety purposes. He had plenty of evidence, including eye witnesses, one of which was he himself. He said the motive was most likely vengeance. He told the truth, the whole way. Until the question.

"And do you have anything to say about what happened in Australia?" The journalist spoke clearly, brashly, her voice clipped. "Are you sure you won't fall in love with this one too?"

A silence fell over the room. Ryan stared at her, feeling himself swiftly reddening, his grip tight on the edges of the podium stand. He could feel Tinsley staring at him, he could feel everyone staring at him. Ryan opened his mouth to speak, closing it, swallowing hard. The room was too warm. Stiflingly hot. The lights hurt his eyes.

"It- I wasn't-"

"Is it true that you and Mister Madej had always had feeling for each oth-"

"No!" Ryan spoke right into the microphone, eyes darting around the room as he tried to see who had asked the question. "No, we- No, I didn't have feelings for him. Never."

"After the Goldsworth incident, is it true that Mister Madej brought you to the hospital?" asked another woman, her voice piping up above the crowd. "And in doing so, saved your life?"

Ryan clenched his teeth, suddenly all too aware of the light scars on his face, the brands of his past. "I- I think that's enough questions. Unless anyone has any relevant to the case at hand."

If the journalists noticed how ill he suddenly seemed, they didn't care. "Can we get a gender on the suspect? Or an age?"

Ryan swallowed hard, gaze lowered as he spoke breathlessly into the microphone. "Male. Early thirties." _Six-four. Sleepy eyes. Tends to be fucking right all the time_. "That's- That's all I can say at the moment."

He swiftly left the room, tapping out, ignoring the yelled questions, the general thirst for gossip. He slipped outside into the empty hall and slumped against the wall, just for a minute. Just for some privacy. He could hear Tinsley up on the podium now, being just as elusive as he had been. He'd told Tinsley what had happened. He'd told him about Shane, about what he'd seen Shane do. About what Shane had done. And he made Tinsley promise not to tell anyone until he had enough hard evidence against Shane. If they announced it too early, Shane would wheedle his way out of it in no time. Ryan knew he would. Because Ryan knew him.

"Well that was a bit embarrassing."

Ryan opened his eyes, straightening up off the wall. He turned to look at him, already feeling the swirl of emotions battling in his stomach; anger, disappointment, sadness. Humiliation. It had been a week since he'd seen him. Since that night.

"Get out."

"It's a public press conference, Bergara." Shane lingered a bit further down the corridor, hands on his hips. "Male, early thirties, hm?"

Ryan glared at him, moving down the corridor towards him. And towards the elevator. "I want you to leave me alone."

"Tough." Shane looked him up and down as he passed by, openly disdainful. "You didn't handle that too well, Ryan. I thought you were about to pass out when they said my name."

"Well I didn't." Ryan continued on towards the elevator, sighing forcefully. "Go away. Why are you following me."

"Because I knew you'd do this." 

"You mean my job."

"I mean turning your back on me."

"And why shouldn't I?" Ryan hit the button before turning to face Shane behind him, head tilted to be able to keep eye contact with him. "You've killed people, Shane. You're probably still killing them."

"Maybe I am." Shane leaned down slightly, looking at him like he was a piece of trash. "So watch yourself, Bergara."

The silence lingered. The elevator doors swished open. Ryan lashed out, grabbing hold of the taller man's tie, yanking him forwards before shoving him back against the wall hard enough for the taller man's head to hit back off it. Shane glared at him, his breaths fast and shallow, hands raised either side. Ryan had one fist still holding the tie, his other fist raised threateningly. The only sound was Tinsley's voice, sounding so distant, despite only being in the next room.

"I'm on your list now, am I?" muttered Ryan, pulling the taller man forwards slightly. Just to show he could. "Do your fucking worst."

Shane smiled at him, able to feel the shorter man's breath hot against his mouth. "You don't want me to do that."

"I've seen it. So go ahead. Try me."

Shane opened his mouth as if to speak, their lips hovering inches apart. Ryan tightened his grip on the taller man's tie, his gaze flickering up and down his face. He went still as he felt Shane's hands settle on his arms, deceivingly soft. Shane finally spoke, whispering the words right against Ryan's mouth.

"This time, I'm going to kill you." 

A pause.

"At least have the decency to do it yourself," muttered Ryan, before finally releasing him. He kept his gaze fixed in place, even as Shane straightened up again, taking a deep breath.

"Well look at us, Ryan. Just two lovebirds." Shane readjusted his tie, just a bit moody. "And don't stutter so much at your next conference. Makes you look stupid."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck _you_." Shane took a step forwards, forcing the shorter man back. "And don't you worry your little head about whether or not I'll do it myself. Because I wouldn't pass up on the opportunity for the world."

"Of course."

"And I've had a lot of time to think about it now. Since I'm not fucking you senseless every night."

"I wouldn't go that far." Ryan kept his eyes on the taller man's, even as he was pushed backwards, Shane roughly guiding him into the elevator. "I'm gonna take you down for the second time in a decade. I deserve an award at this point."

"You deserve a punch in the teeth," said Shane darkly, looking down his nose at him.

" _You_ deserve life behind bars." He smiled dryly at him. "You should've taken the thirty years while you had the chance."

"You're not gonna attempt to cut this one for me, no?" The doors couldn't shut quick enough.

"Oh I'm gonna do the exact opposite this time, Madej." Ryan swallowed hard under the intense glare. "If I get my way, you'll have a one-way trip to Old Sparky by the end of this."

"Mm. Sure I will." Shane released the man's collar, scowling at him. "God, I hate your face."

Ryan let his fingers slide off the ground floor button as he took a step back, Shane's shoulder just overlapping his. He let himself lie back against the wall beside the buttons, gripping the bar that ran just at waist-height. Shane glared at him in open dislike as the shorter man tilted his head back, baring his throat in a manner that was a crime. Ryan took a deep breath, seeing the taller man's eyes move to watch his chest, then travel up to linger on his throat. He looked irritated, tilting his chin up to look down his nose at the shorter man. Ryan smiled at him. The silence continued.

"So what do you do with your nights now, Shane? Must be-"

He was cut off as Shane suddenly grabbed him by the throat, shoving him hard against the wall, his lips inches from the shorter man's. Ryan ignored the sensation of not being able to breathe, pulling open his own shirt, baring his skin, his lean body. Shane took the invite instantly, mouth landing on Ryan's chest, a kiss that was more of a starved bite, his hand still holding Ryan back against the wall. He felt Ryan's hands run through his hair as he ran the kisses up his chest to his neck, hot and wet and fierce, Ryan's mouth hanging open as he let his harsh breaths in and out.

" _Fuck_ me." Ryan rolled his head aside as Shane's mouth worked up the side of his neck, tongue brushing his skin. One hand gripped Shane's wrist where it had him by the jaw. His other hand was lower, much lower, fumbling with the other man's belt buckle. "Fuck. Fuckfuck _fuck_."

Shane's mouth found his in a heated kiss, not quite soft and romantic. It was angry, passionate, pushing Ryan's head back with the force of it. Ryan fell against him, finally yanking open his belt, fingers sliding behind the waist of his trousers as he hurried to unbutton them. They had five floors to let it all out. They needed five hundred. 

Shane inhaled sharply as Ryan just went ahead and slipped his hand down his trousers, forcing the taller man to push forwards against him, their bodies pressed together. "You- _Fuck_."

"You miss that?" Ryan watched the other man closely, letting a smile flit across his mouth as he saw the struggle on the taller man's face. "Do you miss _that_?"

"GodI'mgonnafuckingkillyou." Shane managed to get the mumbled words out, panting for breath, his face flushed. His hands were pressed against the wall either side of Ryan's head. "Fuck. Fuck me."

"Oh, you _do_." Ryan suddenly took his hand away, shoving Shane back a step. "Well that's very sad."

Shane kept his eyes closed, face still red, his frustration palpable. He didn't speak. He opened his eyes, seeing the shorter man buttoning up his shirt, not a care in the world. His badge shone on his belt, fuelling the white-hot anger that was still in Shane's chest. 

"I miss what you can do, Ryan. But I won't miss _you_ at all."

Ryan wiped a hand across his mouth as the doors swished open, the voice politely announcing that they had reached the ground floor. "Very ominous. Ten out of ten."

"You don't think I'll do it."

"I know you won't." Ryan passed him by, pushing a hand through his dark hair to try and neaten it again somewhat. "Nice seeing you. Sort of."

"Mm." Shane stepped out of the elevator after him, ignoring the confused stare of a woman getting in as he buckled his belt. "Sort of."

* * *

Ryan got back to his apartment at around half nine. It had been a long day, but the feeling of Shane's hands on him, the feeling of Shane's mouth on his still lingered. He dropped his keys on the table beside the door, stretching as he moved into the spacious room. He didn't bother turning on the lights. The city lights outside cast a soft blue glow over the room, so he wasn't exactly stumbling around in the dark anyway. He moved to the window, hands on his hips, studying the towering buildings outside. Shane was out there somewhere, plotting, and scheming, and ordering his various henchmen to do terrible deeds. Ryan remembered the state of McClintock's burnt remains, the state of Goldsworth's body, the faces of the people shot and drowned and hanged. It had all been Shane's doing. Maybe not all of them directly, but still because of him. Yet somehow, inexplicably, Ryan still wanted him. He absent-mindedly rested his fingers against his mouth, his gaze distant. But it sharpened again the second he noticed movement in the window. Movement behind him. A figure slowly creeping up on him. Too short to be Shane. But he had no doubt about who had sent him. Ryan's heart froze.

He whipped around, ducking aside just on time to avoid the stab of a knife. He stumbled over his own feet, almost falling, pushing himself back upright. He swerved backwards to avoid another swipe, scrambling over his couch, keeping it between them as he rolled up his sleeves, freed his hands, readied himself. He could fight. He knew he could fight. But he'd never alerted Shane to this fact. So instead he kept up the act of being helpless, defenseless, moving backwards as the masked hitman came closer. 

"No, no, wait," breathed Ryan, his heart hammering in his chest. "I don't-"

He ducked right under the next swipe, landing a hard right hook into the man's stomach, forcing him to double over, where Ryan's knee was waiting for him, driving right up into his face. The man let out a surprised yelp, stumbling backwards. Ryan snatched the towel off the kitchen table as he swiftly followed, wrapping it around the knife, wrenching it from the man's grip and tossing towel and knife aside. The guy seemed a bit dazed, a bit stunned, throwing a messy punch at him. Ryan simply stepped out of the way, catching his wrist, pulling the man forwards before delivering him a sharp punch right across the jaw, the man's head snapping aside. The hitman fell flat on his face, out like a light.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Ryan hugged his hand to his body, eyes squeezed shut. " _Fuck_ me that hurt. _Shit_."

He sat down on the arm of the couch, shaking his hand out, still panting for breath. He should probably ring Tinsley. He should probably tie this guy up; he wasn't sure how long he'd be unconscious for. But before that, he should just double-check something.

He knelt beside the man, taking his phone from his pocket, using the guy's fingerprint to unlock it. Then he got to his feet, moving towards the window as he skimmed through the contacts. He swallowed hard. Then he pressed call. It rang a few times before being answered.

"Yellllo?"

Ryan stared at his reflection for a few long seconds, speechless.

"You know, the heavy breathing thing is a bit lame, Jeremy. Did you get it done or not."

Ryan gritted his teeth. "No. He didn't get it done."

A stunned silence. "Well fuck me, Ryan. You've done it again."

"You fucked up now, Shane." 

"Did you really fight him and win?" He whistled through his teeth. "Damn, Ryan. I'll admit, that's kind of hot."

"You didn't even have the guts to try and kill me yourself." Ryan glared at his reflection, his grip white-knuckled on the phone. "This was more of an insult than anything else."

"I'm a busy man, Ryan. I don't have time to kill all my enemies personally."

Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out sharply. "Where are you."

"Hm?"

"Where are you. Right now."

A pensive pause. "And why would I tell you that."

"Because I think we should talk. I think we should have a nice, long chat."

"I can't tell if you're flirting with me or threatening me. Mm. And I _love_ it." A quiet laugh. "I have an idea. How about I choose an isolated, lonely motel where we can relive one of our fondest memories."

"Not interested."

"Oh, sure."

"You literally just tried to have me killed. I don't want to fuck you."

"It's, uh, it's BDSM."

"No it's fucking not."

"Well. Fine." The eye roll was palpable. "I don't have time to chat with you tonight, Ryan. I-"

"Oh, but you have time to fuck me?"

"I always have time to fuck you."

Ryan sighed sharply, turning around to make sure the hitman was still KO'd. "Forget it. We'll be seeing each other soon enough, anyway."

"Oh, delightful." Shane waited for a moment, sitting in his office, a foot up on the desk. "What are you going to do with Jeremy?"

" _Jeremy_. You learn their names now, hm?"

"Ooh, don't sound quite so jealous." A leisurely sigh. "Really turns me on."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah. Soon." 

Shane hung up, tossing his phone onto his desk. Then he sat back, hands linked behind his head as he pondered his choices. Ryan would most likely get Jeremy put behind bars, as was his way. And really, that was a witness against him, now. Shane got to his feet, picking up his glass of whiskey as he moved to the window, a hand on his hip as he observed the section of the city he could see. The most prominent thing in his eyeline was the courthouse, standing proud and tall. He hated that thing, but he understood now why Goldsworth had bought this building to be his offices. It was easy to keep an eye on how the law was progressing. He took a sip of his drink, swallowing it, ignoring the burn. He couldn't let the hitman be put behind bars. He couldn't have any witnesses. So he went back to his desk, and picked up his phone, and made another late-night call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/xlEQnZdlaeE
> 
> i KNOW it's a twilight song but it's GOOD. and also a Mood for this fic


	12. One Step Ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"I learnt long ago to hate my enemies. But I've never loved one before."_ \- Peaky Blinders

Shane was at his desk. Shane was always at his desk. For as long as Ryan knew him, at his desk is where he would most likely be found. The Devil works hard but Shane Madej works harder. It was how he became so successful, so renowned for what he did. It was infuriating. Ryan went into the office with no hesitation this time, ahead of Tinsley, ahead of the few other cops. Shane looked up from his work, pen hovering in place. He had eyes only for Ryan, his gaze not flickering once as Ryan went right up to his desk, tossing a piece of paper onto it.

"Search warrant."

Shane raised a disapproving eyebrow at the piece of paper, placing it aside as he went back to his work. "I'll take your word for it."

Ryan gritted his teeth at the flippancy of the other man. "Stand up."

Shane raised his head to give him a dark look. He closed over the ledger, put the pen down, got to his feet. He could see the other cops rifling through the shelves, the filing cabinets, even the trash. Ryan circled the desk, standing right in front of him, opening the ledger back up. Shane stared down at him, at the suspicious look on the shorter man's face as he studied the figures.  _Oh you're next, Bergara. You're definitely next_. 

Ryan glanced up at him, a chill going through him at the look in the taller man's eyes. "Still working hard, hm?"

"Harder than you."

"I don't think so."

"I always have, Bergara." He smiled, a pitying one. "I've always been one step ahead."

Ryan glared at him, closing the ledger over with a 'snap'. "Go on. Keep acting cocky. It'll make it all the sweeter for me in the end."

Shane watched him for a long few seconds. "Your end isn't going to be sweet. I'll tell you that."

Ryan let out a quiet breath. Then he took hold of the taller man's arm, forcing him to turn around, taking the cuffs from his belt and slipping one around the other man's wrist. "Thanks for that. You're under arrest for resisting an executive officer."

Shane rolled his eyes with a dry laugh as the other man distractedly reeled off his Miranda rights, feeling the other cuff being put on, uncomfortably tight. "Oh, that's low, Ryan. Real low."

Tinsley sidled over, his thick eyebrows raised. "What's happening here, huh?"

"He threatened me." Ryan smiled. "Just like I told you he would."

Shane narrowed his eyes as he watched Tinsley reluctantly pass a ten dollar bill to Ryan. "Wow. Very professional of you."

"I think the others should keep looking," suggested Ryan, seeing Tinsley nod in agreement. "Any contacts, any familiar names, anything."

Shane allowed himself to be pushed forwards, out the door into the hallway. "Well, isn't this a blast from the past."

"Shut up." 

"I think it's 'you have the right to remain silent'."

"Which is a right you never used."

"And I'm not going to use it now." Shane slipped down another step outside the building, cursing. "Stop fucking pushing me, Ryan."

"It's funny."

Shane threw him a glower over his shoulder, just able to make out the shorter man's mischievous eyes. "Mm. Is it."

Ryan opened the car door for him, a wide grin on his face. "Watch your head there, Madej. Wouldn't want you to get knocked the fuck out before we get into the fun stuff."

The taller man sat into the squad car, a familiar setting, despite the fact he hadn't actually been in one in years. Even seeing Ryan sit into the driver's seat was all too familiar, hitting him with a wave of nostalgia. Well, maybe not nostalgia. He didn't exactly yearn for those days to be back. But here they were.

"And what's the fun stuff, hm?"

Ryan shrugged, throwing him a look in the rear view mirror. "Oh, you'll find out soon."

"C'mon. Just tell me."

"I'm not telling you."

Shane moved into the middle seat, leaning forwards so that he could see Ryan's face more clearly. "Give me a hint. Even a letter."

Ryan went quiet, pulling into a gap between the hurrying cars. "J."

"Jeremy." Shane said the name quiet and cool. "I see."

"Mm." Ryan turned his head slightly to look at him, finally noticing just how close he was. "Crazy how the van bringing him to jail managed to run over a spike strip, veer off into a ditch, and break his neck clean in half."

"Wow. That's wild." Shane spared a glance to the heavens. "RIP Jeremy. You will be missed."

Ryan gave a harsh laugh. "You're sick."

"I'm being sincere."

"Sincere. I'm surprised you know the word."

"I know about being sincere," shrugged Shane, his breath hot against Ryan's ear. "For example, I sincerely hate you."

"I sincerely wish you were dead," replied Ryan lightly, trying to ignore how dangerously close Shane's mouth was to his neck.

"I sincerely want to put you through the windshield," muttered Shane, his gaze lowered, watching the other man swallow. "And I sincerely want to finish what we started in that elevator."

Ryan didn't reply, pulling into the station, his gaze lowered as he parked the car in with all the others, under the roof covering that plunged everything into shadow. He cut the engine. He could still feel Shane's mouth centimeters from his neck. He couldn't move. He didn't want to. He closed his eyes as he felt the lips against his skin, raising a hand to push it through Shane's thick hair, inhaling deeply as he felt the tongue brushing just under his jaw. He suddenly turned in his seat, pulling Shane's head back, kissing him hard, slipping an arm around his neck. Shane let himself be pushed back as Ryan clambered into the back seats, straddling him, aggressive, impatient. He yanked his tie off over his head before leaning in, his mouth finding Shane's in the dark, hands holding his face, feeling the other man's jaw working as he kissed him back just as fiercely. Their hips grinded off each other, bodies flush together, mouths glued.

"Take off the cuffs," breathed Shane, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. "Please."

Ryan kissed him hard, pushing his head back. "No." He kissed him again, head turned the other way, their tongues brushing.

"Ryan, p-please." He gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut as Ryan focused on his throat, deep kisses that had his arms shaking as he pulled at the cuffs. "Ryan, please, _please_ take them off."

"No." Ryan wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his head aside, pushing the kisses under his jaw, still grinding his hips hard into him, feeling Shane's hips bucking off the seat in response. "Fuck you."

He went to reply, getting cut off as Ryan's open mouth landed on his, not holding back in any regard. He pushed forwards off the seat in an effort to get more, feeling Ryan's arms firm around his shoulders to keep him balanced, their bodies slotted together. Shane's mouth pushed into his neck, burrowing behind his shirt collar, savage, making Ryan shove forwards, pressing him back against the seat, his mouth open as he panted for air. He had a hand on the back of Shane's head, holding him in place, his other hand pulling open Shane's belt as the tongue grew fiercer against his neck. The kisses stopped as Shane moaned harshly, burying his face in Ryan's shoulder as he felt the hand slip down into his trousers. 

"Yeah?" breathed Ryan, one hand still busy below, the other running through Shane's hair. "You like that?"

Shane nodded, his breath hot against Ryan's neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I- Oh _God_ , I like it."

Ryan went to his own belt, taking out the key for the cuffs, seeing the blatant hunger in the other man's eyes as he hurriedly opened them, Shane's gaze burning into his face. "Now, are you-"

Shane cut him off, hands grabbing his face, pulling him forwards into an angry kiss, a hand sliding under Ryan's shirt, holding him flush against him. "God, I'm gonna fuck you stupid."

Ryan nodded breathlessly at the barely hidden fury in the other man's voice, unbuckling his own belt, a mean feat seeing as Shane's hands were all over him, taking control of the situation. He allowed himself to be pushed sideways, Shane on top, their mouths lingering inches apart as they got comfortable.

"Twenty minutes," muttered Ryan, not resisting as Shane took hold of his shirt, pulling it right open. "Then we have to go. Twenty."

Shane's hands slipped around his sides, his mouth making its way down his body, feeling Ryan's hand tangling in his hair as he got lower. "That's all I need." 

* * *

Tinsley stood up as Ryan entered the break room, looking just a bit scruffed up; hair ruffled, tie missing, sleeves half-rolled. "Well, you're a bit late!" He checked his watch. "By forty-five minutes, Bergara!"

Ryan blinked rapidly, tucking his shirt back into his trousers. "Yeah. Sorry. Two junkies were fighting outside Domino's."

"Classic." The chief got to his feet, handing a file over to Ryan. "Here's the relevant stuff we found in Madej's office. He has some dubious contacts, I'll tell you that."

"He always did have friends in low places." Ryan took the file, flipping through it. "Yeah. That's the one. Jeremy Flynn."

Tinsley smiled at him, sitting down. "Well go and get him, tiger."

* * *

Shane raised his head as the door to the room finally opened, an unimpressed look on his face. "Well, Ryan. Your punctuation is admirable. I've only been sitting here for half an hour."

Ryan shrugged, chucking the file on the table before taking a seat. "That's very sad. Thanks for sharing your struggle."

Shane lifted his hands, the cuffs clinking off the hook that held them to the table. "And is this really necessary?"

Ryan spared him a smirk, opening up the file. "What? They suit you."

"Kicking me while I'm down. Classic Ryan."

"Mm. But I'd rather talk about classic Shane. Old-school Shane Madej, and his wily ways." Ryan turned the photograph in his hand, pushing it across the table towards him. "Look familiar?"

Shane observed the photo of the hitman, eyebrows raised. "I thought I was brought in here for, uh, resisting an executive officer. So what's this?"

"The search warrant ended with some interesting finds." Ryan tapped the file in front of him. "Lots of names. Contacts. Dubious, villainous people."

"I got in with the wrong crowd, Bergara." Shane rested his chin on his hand, a smile on his face. "Very bad influences on me."

"Oh, so you were the one who got influenced, hm?"

Shane shrugged, sitting back in the chair, wrists still resting on the table. "Well, what do you think?"

Ryan folded his arms on the table, sitting forwards. "I think you have a way of influencing people. And you make them do very, very bad things."

"Oh, Ryan. Stop."

"Jeremy Flynn. Irish-born hitman. Recently deceased." Ryan raised his gaze to meet Shane's, both equally sharp, equally on edge. "Also recently in my apartment, trying to kill me."

Shane spread his hands. "Well, you're still here. So that's, uh, great."

"I don't have a lot of people who want me dead, Shane."

"I don't really believe that, but go on."

Ryan's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "In fact, there's only one person I could think of that would want me dead."

A small smile pulled at Shane's mouth. "Oh really."

"Really. And he's sitting right here."

"Is it- Uh, is it-" Shane's eyes widened. "Is- Is it me?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Yes. It's you."

"Phew! I was really stuck on that one."

Ryan got to his feet, too agitated to stay sitting. "Did you hire Flynn to kill me?"

Shane kicked his feet up on Ryan's chair, legs crossed. A lazy move that had Ryan grit his teeth with irritation. "No, I did not. You mean the world to me, Ryan." He looked him up and down. "I mean, I wouldn't save your life just to kill you, would I?"

Ryan gave him a withering look. "You're full of surprises, Shane. I don't know what you'd do."

Shane smiled at him, head tilted to one side. "You said that this Flynn man is dead, right?"

"Mm. Right."

"So how are you going to try and prove that I hired him?"

Ryan stared at him in cold silence. "I can't. And you know that I can't." 

"Yeah, I do know. But I just wanted to speed this up a bit." Shane got to his feet with a leisurely sigh, putting his wrists out. "Now, whenever you're ready. I have a busy day ahead of me."

Ryan moved around to his side of the table, leaning against it, one hand resting on the surface. "I'd sit down again, if I were you."

Shane reluctantly did so, giving the cuffs a disapproving tug. "I really don't think these are necessary. Can I make a polite request to get them taken the fuck off?"

"You can. But I'm gonna say no." Ryan folded his arms, sitting on the table, one foot still on the ground, the other leg swinging leisurely. "You know, a woman came in here the other day. Seemed a bit concerned about the people you've surrounded yourself with."

Shane went still, looking up at him. "A nameless woman, hm?"

"A close friend of yours. Or, she was." Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Says you're involved in some very dirty activity now."

 _Sara. Sara fucking Rubin. Shit_. He knew she'd been distancing herself for the past while. "And what did she give you to back this up?"

"A pair of gloves. With Ricky Goldsworth's DNA all over them."

Shane's face was stiff, eyes locked on Ryan's. "They could be anyone's gloves."

"You're a big man, Madej. Bigger than average."

"Mm."

"And so are the gloves."

"I see."

"You can try them on if you want," shrugged Ryan, nonchalant. "But if even your friends are turning against you, I don't think you'll be-"

"I want my lawyer."

Ryan raised his eyebrows innocently. "Ms Horsley, is it?"

Shane got to his feet, fists clenched, his eyes fixed on the shorter man's. "No. Not her."

"Oh. Did something change there?"

"Ryan."

"Because you two were buddies for a while, right? Up until-"

"Shut up."

"-that event in Australia. Made you very angry, didn't it?" Ryan didn't back away as the taller man took a step towards him, the cuffs digging into his wrists. "I'm aware that it was Bernard McClintock who betrayed you. And then Ricky Goldsworth. And now they're both dead. A coincidence, right?"

"I'm surprised you remember," growled Shane, flushed with anger. "Seeing as I carried you half-dead out of the fucking building and made sure you were safe before I left. How stupid of me."

Ryan glared at him, straightening up off the table. "I-"

"You know what I'd do if I could go back to that night?" Shane spat the words, coated in venom. "I'd leave you there to bleed out. No, I'd be the one to fucking kill you myself."

Ryan swallowed hard. "You don't mean that."

"Oh, I do." Shane kept his voice a harsh whisper. "I'd finish the job Goldsworth started. And I can't believe I passed up on the opportunity when it was given to me."

Ryan blinked rapidly, his throat tight. "Well. That's very incriminating of you."

He saw the taller man close his eyes, shoulders slumping, sighing heavily. Shane sat back down, head hanging. And he didn't look up, even as he heard the door open and shut, leaving him alone with the emotions churning in his stomach, making him feel sick.

* * *

Ryan came out of the bathrooms, his eyes still red, his nose still sniffly. He wasn't quite sure why he was reacting to what had happened the way he was. He'd always considered himself a man who was quite in touch with his emotions, but now? He didn't have a clue what was going on in his own head. And it wasn't as if that was the first time Shane had threatened his physical safety. He used to do it all the time. A laugh, and a wag of a finger, and a simple "I swear to God, Bergara. One day I'm gonna kill you". But it was never serious. It was a joke. It was a joke when Shane had only been laundering money, not when he'd been involved in dozens of murders; directly, circumstantially, it didn't matter. Ryan sighed heavily, lingering near the bathrooms in an effort to give his eyes even a little bit of time to become less red. Unfortunately, this was not to happen.

"Oh, there you are!" Tinsley clamped a hand on his shoulder, turning him. "You won't- Oh. Are you okay?"

Ryan nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, just allergies."

"That's good then. But listen to this; Madej just confessed to the Goldsworth murder."

Ryan's head snapped up, his shocked gaze locked on Tinsley's excited one. "...What?"

"He admitted that he did it!" Tinsley spread his arms, beaming. "He said that the gloves were his, and that he _did_ kill him. Well done Ryan!"

"Well what about the other deaths? Did he confess to them?"

"No, he's denying them. We're going to have to take him to court over it."

Ryan stared, feeling a bit numb in the current moment. Tinsley was clearly celebrating, but he didn't know Shane. He didn't know how far Shane would go to get his way, to wriggle out of a bad situation. To get revenge. Ryan swallowed, waiting for Tinsley to calm down.

"Where is he?"

Tinsley shrugged. "Oh, he's in a cell for now. He-"

"I'm going to talk to him." He stepped around Tinsley, still feeling an underlying sense of panic. "There's no way he'd just do that. He knows he's screwed if he admits to even just one of those murders."

"Huh?"

"Shane knows the consequences if he pleads guilty to all those murders." Ryan was basically talking out loud to himself, pacing down the hallway, Tinsley hurrying after him. "It's death. It'll be the death penalty. And there's no way he'd just walk into that."

"You think he has something planned?"

"Definitely. Yes." His words were bitter. "He's always one step ahead. And he was never afraid to let me know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next two chapters are gonna be called  
>  _No Man's Land ___  
>  _Justice_  
>  which is gonna have the court scene


	13. No Man's Land

Ryan nodded at the security guard as he went into the room. There was a heavy metal door. There was a buzzer to alert anyone around when this door was being unlocked. There was a bed in the room, and a small table, and a chair. It was quite lavish for a cell. It wasn't even technically a cell; no bars. Ryan stood with his hands on his hips, waiting for the other man to look at him.

"Well how'd you find your way into one of these cells, hm?"

Shane didn't lower the newspaper, still lying back on the bed, one leg kicked up on it. "I grew up here, Ryan. I know some of the cops."

"Of course you do."

No reply. Ryan sat down at the table, waiting for Shane to reveal himself from behind the paper he was very much invested in. He'd have to be patient here. Trying to bully facts out of Shane Madej only ever ended in defeat. So he restrained himself, and waited. And waited. Five minutes passed. Shane gave the paper a sharp shake, giving an equally sharp laugh. 

"Well, Ryan. The papers love us."

Ryan frowned at this, sitting more upright. "Huh?"

Shane finally sat up, passing the paper to him. He rested an elbow on his knee, his chin on his hand, watching Ryan's face for a reaction as the man's eyes grew rapidly wider. Ryan blinked hard, re-reading the article, getting to his feet. 

" _Two Star-Crossed Lovers or Two Sworn Enemies; The Truth About Detective Bergara and Shane Madej_." He read the words slowly, feeling his face flush. "Well fuck."

"We made it, Ryan." Shane laughed again, a bitter sound. " _The Chicago Tribune_. Amazing."

Ryan wandered back and forth as he read the article closely, eyes narrowed. It was Shane's turn to wait now. So he lay back, hands linked behind his head, and watched the detective almost shove his head through the pages he was reading it so closely.

"I just love how they described me," smiled Shane, letting his gaze drift to the ceiling. "Sneaky. Nefarious. Greedy." A dry smile. "You didn't write it, did you?"

"No. But they didn't get it wrong."

"Well they described _you_ as the damn hero," said Shane moodily, propping himself up on his elbow. "Determined and intelligent and out to do good. Made me sick."

"Again, they didn't get it wrong." Ryan felt his chest grow tight as he got to the section about their 'tempestuous affair'. "Who told them all this stuff?"

"Who the hell do you think, Ryan?" Shane got to his feet, hands on his hips. "Your friend. The delightful Holly Horsley. And there's some details there that ol' Mike Tromp only knew. So literally everyone's a bastard in this situation."

"How do you know."

"Because I'm not a fucking idiot." 

Ryan glared at him as the the taller man snatched the paper away, folding it up and tossing it back onto the bed. "Are you sure?"

Shane glared back. "Positive."

"Then why would you confess to killing Goldsworth?"

The taller man looked him up and down, letting his gaze linger as he moved back to the bed. He sat down. "Because I did it."

"You never confess to anything unless you have a plan," said Ryan firmly. "You only confess to something when it gives you control over the situation. Which it has right now. So what's your plan."

Shane stared at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head, laughing quietly. "God, I want to punch you in the face for calling me out like that."

"Tell me."

"Guess." Shane rested his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. "Since you know me so well."

Ryan held his gaze, trying to find some weakness in the other man's defense. "You have a target."

Shane inhaled deeply, looking just a bit miffed. "Go on."

Ryan pulled the chair away from the table, sitting down on it, right in front of the other man. He had to be sharp. He had to watch for even the slightest twitch of Shane's fingers, the tiniest raise of an eyebrow. Anything. Everything. "So who's left on your list, hm? Norris. Horsley." A pause. "Me."

Shane didn't move an inch. "Go on."

"You know that they'll be there. They wouldn't pass up on this opportunity to see the prosecution wipe the floor with you." Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you going to try, hm? Something during court? That'll be very risky, Shane. Even for you."

Shane smiled at him, a wry one. "I've done riskier things, Ryan. You should know. You've been there."

"And what could you even do? Whip out a gun and blast them both in front of the entire place?"

"If I wanted to." Shane seemed just a bit too chirpy for Ryan's liking. "You're doing it again, Bergara."

Ryan watched him. "I'm underestimating you."

"You're underestimating me," repeated Shane slowly, leisurely. "You still haven't realized just how far I'm willing to go to give people... Oh, what did you say I do? I give people what I _think_ they deserve?"

"Mm."

"You see, that's the thing." Shane sat forwards, his gaze lowered pensively as he spoke. His words were quiet, careful. "What I think people deserve, is exactly what they deserve. Because I get to decide now. I get to decide what people deserve. I get to decide how I'm going to give them what they deserve, and when I'm going to give it to them." He smiled at the flicker of nervousness across the other man's face. "Everyone's fate is mine to decide, Ryan. And I'm not going to give that power up any day soon."

Ryan swallowed hard. "This trial is going to go on for weeks, Shane. Maybe even months. You're not going to have any power at all."

"No." Shane shook his head, a sly smile accompanying the gesture. "No, this trial isn't going to last a day."

Ryan felt the shivers go through him, his eyes locked on Shane's. "What are you talking about."

"A lot of people deserve a lot of things right now, Ryan. My list is a goddamn mile long." Shane absent-mindedly took hold of the other man's hand, holding it between them. His touch was surprisingly gentle, given the words that rolled out of his mouth. "But you're still right at the top."

Ryan wrapped his fingers around Shane's hand, tight, too tight, ignoring the hissed curse as he yanked Shane forwards so that their faces were inches apart. "What do you mean about the trial not lasting a day."

Shane just smiled, despite the fact he was almost certain his fingers were about to shatter. "Just stay sharp, Ryan. I'm one step ahead."

Ryan finally let go of him, getting to his feet, his heart skipping in his chest. "You didn't just kill Goldsworth. You _are_ Goldsworth."

And thankfully, _thankfully_ , he saw a flicker of worry in the other man's face. Just a flash of it. It was gone as quickly as it came. "Aw. My feelings."

Ryan glared at him. "I'll see you in the morning. Nine sharp. Don't be late."

"I never am." Shane smiled again, one that made Ryan's jaw clench. "Hope you're ready."

Ryan threw him a last look over his shoulder as he was let out of the cell, only feeling himself relax once the door was shut over. He barely heard the guard asking if he knew how to get out, if he knew where to go. He just left. He wandered down the hall, feeling very distant altogether. He hadn't gotten anywhere there. Well, barely anywhere. He took out his phone, ringing Tinsley. 

"Hey, Ryan! Where are you?"

"The station. Why?"

"We're at the courthouse getting set up! The cleaners are here, but they're busying themselves elsewhere, so get down here while the room's empty."

"Yeah, just- Just make sure the security tomorrow is good."

A pause. "Did Shane say something?"

"I- I don't know." Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, heading out the doors. "Yeah. He just hinted at some things. Or maybe he's really just going insane."

* * *

Shane sat on the edge of the bed for hours. For as long as it was meant to take. If she didn't come around, then he had to assume he was screwed. He'd have to go into court, and get absolutely annihilated in front of everyone. In front of Ryan. He gritted his teeth at the thought. He'd rather die. No, he'd rather all of them die. The buzzer sounded, and in she came. He got to his feet with a smile. 

"Well, Kelsey. Give me good news."

"It's all good to go." She sat down on the chair, smiling back. "This is gonna be great."

"Well, yeah. If it works." _If Ryan doesn't do what he always does and catch on before it happens_. "And are they gonna be there?"

"Apparently so." A pause. "What do you want to do about Rubin?"

He didn't reply for a long moment, hands on his hips. "Nothing."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Huh?!"

"Nothing. Just let her go. She won't do anything stupid." He rubbed a hand across his mouth, feeling the stubble under his fingers. "Don't touch her."

"Okay. Well, I wasn't expecting that."

"Mm." He sat back down, his gaze distracted. "And are you sure Ryan is going to be there?"

"Yeah. They saw him."

He went quiet. He wasn't too sure how to feel. "Okay."

Kelsey watched his face, the conflict of emotions swirling under the surface. "You can't back out now, Shane. It's way too late."

"I know." He buried his face in his hands, sighing long and loud. "Right. Thanks, Kels. I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Hopefully."

He heard the door buzz, the door open, the door close. Then he lay back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling, and didn't sleep a wink. And Ryan did the same across the city, staring at the twinkling lights out the window. They thought about each other. They gauged each other, they tried to predict what the other might do. They cursed each other. They cursed themselves for ruining each other. But most of all, they wished the other was there to help this long night just go faster. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the other chapter will definitely be up tomorrow night. i got it done done ddone but it's gonna pack more PUNCH as a separate chapter hence the reason i didnt put it on this one
> 
> if u want a major spoiler listen these 2 little lines from Margaery Tyrell (RIP)  
> https://youtu.be/hjtPtTUx_ks?t=370
> 
> just replace 'cersei' with 'shane'


	14. Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“May you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you - haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe - I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh God, it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”_ \- Wuthering Heights

The clock ticked on the wall. Steady. Calm. _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock_. Horsley watched her watch. Norris watched her nails. Tinsley watched the door to the hall, which lead to the bathrooms. Ryan watched nothing.

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock_. The time showed quarter past nine.

Ryan sat at the table between Tinsley and the prosecuting lawyer. He spared a glance behind him at where Horsley and Norris sat side-by-side, both trying to hide the smug smiles on their faces. He didn't feel the joy they were clearly feeling. The rest of the room was relatively quiet, chatting among themselves. The judge and the security guards talked casually, a low murmur. Ryan leaned forwards slightly, just to get a glimpse of the other table. The table where Shane's lawyer sat. Shane's lawyer, but no Shane. 

Ryan checked his watch again. It ticked and tocked in time to the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed since the court was supposed to have started. Fifteen minutes. Sixteen now. He took a deep breath, letting it out quietly. He was just being paranoid. Shane was probably just late. He got to his feet, excusing himself from the whispered conversation Tinsley and the lawyer were having. It was a conversation about how sure they were that they were going to win this, that Madej was going to prison for life. It was a conversation Ryan had heard dozens of times, yet Shane had never lost. Only once. Only once, due to Ryan. He headed over to Shane's lawyer, the clock sounding louder over there. He kept his voice a whisper.

"Where is he?" Ryan glanced at the open doors to the hall, clearly anxious. "Did he ring you?"

"I've been ringing him for the past ten minutes," replied the lawyer, clearly flustered. His watch shone on his wrist. "He won't answer. It's just ringing out each time."

Ryan nodded, straightening up. He nodded at Tinsley as the chief passed him by on the way to the bathrooms. Then he moved to his coworkers, leaning over the wooden railing to them.

"Send some guys to Madej's apartment," he said, quiet. He didn't want to panic the room. Not quite yet. "Try and find where the hell he is."

"The chief already told us to. He's not in his apartment."

Ryan's breathed hitched, a very unpleasant feeling rising in his chest. "Okay. Okay, well, any sign of the car?"

"It left the station, but that's all we know." The woman shrugged helplessly. "We can't find him."

Ryan nodded, straightening up once again, still gripping the railing tight. He stared around the crowd, some seated, others standing, all growing more agitated by the minute, by each tick-tock of the clock. Where was this mystery suspect? Was this all some joke? Ryan looked at Horsley and Norris again, seeing that their smug smiles had also slipped from their faces, the two of them now trying to disguise their suspicion as they glanced at the open doors. At each other. At the clock. Nineteen minutes past nine.

Where was Shane Madej? 

Ryan headed up to the judge's desk, standing on his tiptoes to speak to her. "Your Honor, can I have a word?"

She sniffed, pushing her glasses up her nose. He could see the reflection of her phone in them; the time showed twenty minutes past nine. "Is it about Shane Madej's whereabouts?"

"Uh, kind of." Ryan glanced behind him again, just in case Shane was on his way in, just in case his fears could be subdued. "I just- I think we should call the court off. I think it should be rescheduled."

She raised her white eyebrows at this. "No, Detective. I'm afraid not."

"But-"

"People have missed court dates before. The usual protocol will follow if he's late; a warning, an arrest warrant, and another date scheduled."

"I know him," hissed Ryan, teetering slightly as he held onto the side of the podium. "I know Shane. He's never late. He's one of the most accurate people I know." He repeated his thoughts, slow and clear. "I think we should call off the court."

"We all know how much you _know_ Shane." She turned her disapproving gaze back to her desk, re-reading some of the facts. She picked up her phone. She stared at the time. "We'll give him until half nine. Then we'll call it off."

Ryan reluctantly turned away, hands on his hips, his chest tight with panic. Something was off. Something terrible was off, Shane had planned something, he _knew_ Shane had planned something. Shane had _told_ him he'd planned something.  _This trial isn't going to last a day_. He stared at the clock above the main doors, nice and shiny and dangerous. Each second that passed was a threat. He didn't sit down. He couldn't.

"Hey, Ryan." It was Norris, standing behind the wooden doors to the well. She looked impatient. "What's going on? Where's Shane?"

He shook his head, blinking rapidly. "I don't know. I- He's meant to be here."

The look on her face made him realize that he was indeed not being paranoid at all. She averted her wide eyes, muttering something about making a few calls as she paced off down the aisle. Her heels were just out of time with each tick-tock of the clock. Ryan could see the rest of the courtroom getting impatient, their chatting getting louder as the minutes passed by. Not loud enough to block out the ticking and tocking that seemed to echo in Ryan's head. He snatched his phone from the table where the lawyer still sat, pacing out the door, hopping down the steps. There were journalists, cameramen, some security guards lingering outside, smoking, talking, waiting. Checking their watches, their phones.

Waiting for Shane Madej. 

Ryan called him. It rang out. He called him again, pacing back and forth, muttering the same word over and over again. _C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon._ Tick tock tick tock _. Pick up the phone_. _Where are you?_

He could see Goldsworth's offices, just a few blocks away. Shane's offices now. Shane's headquarters. Ryan rang him again, this time getting swiftly hung up on. He swallowed hard, letting out a quiet, shaky breath. So Shane was okay. He just wasn't interested in answering his phone. One more call. This time, a reluctant answer. Ryan let the panicked words spill forwards.

"Where the hell are you?" he demanded instantly, his glare fixed on nothing. "Get down here, you ass. You're going to be tried no matter what. So stop-"

"Ryan." Shane sounded eerily calm. Wherever he was was eerily quiet. The clock ticked on his desk as he watched the courthouse like a cat watching a live mouse stuck in a trap. "You know me. I'm a go-getter, right?"

"Stop fucking around, Shane. You can go-get to the courthouse. Now."

"And how often am I going to get all my enemies in one place?" he continued, as if Ryan hadn't even spoken. "Maybe only the once."

Ryan turned to look at the courthouse, his eyes wide. Horsley, Norris, himself. The judge. The prosecuting lawyer. The security. All the people who knew who the suspect was, who knew the suspect was Shane Madej. He didn't even notice Shane hanging up. 

Ryan shoved his phone back into his pocket, racing up the stone steps, hurrying through the halls to the courtroom at a fierce pace. He went straight up to the judge's podium, his footsteps sounding in time to the clock. He was aware of the eyes stuck to him, some people standing up, some people moving towards him. 

"Your Honor," he panted, louder now. He hadn't wanted to panic the courtroom. Now he felt like he should. "We have to leave. Everyone has to get out."

The judge raised her eyebrows in that infuriatingly superior fashion. "I don't think so, Detective. Please take a seat. The court will be cancelled in five minutes."

"No, you don't understand-"

"This Shane Madej is a _very_ frightening man, I understand that," she replied dryly, like she was talking to an annoying toddler. "But he doesn't frighten me. Five minutes, Detective."

" _Please_ , please listen to me." He wanted to reach over, to shake her, to scream at her. "I just rang him and he answered. He's not here _on purpose_. And he doesn't do stuff like this on purpose unless he has no intention of facing the repercussions."

The judge rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "What can the big bad Madej do, Detective? We have security on the building. We're in the middle of the city, for God's-"

"Listen to what I'm telling you!" he almost shouted the words, the watchers jumping in shock at his tone. "He's smart. He's smarter than me, and he's probably smarter than you. Just reschedule the fucking date!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Your Honor." It was Horsley now, sidling up to the podium. "I too know Mister Madej. I think Detective Bergara has a point when he says that we might be in danger here. All of us."

"Ms Horsley, as much as I respect your opinion, I-"

Ryan whipped around, still breathing heavily, eyes wide in alarm. They didn't have time for this. They literally didn't have time. The clock still ticked away. Each one had Ryan's shoulders tense just that bit more. He had to get everyone out. He had to get more than the courtroom evacuated. He had to get the entire building evacuated. He knew Shane. He _knew_ him. 

Without hesitation, he ran to the fire alarm, smashing the glass with his fist. The sprinklers burst on, showering the crowd below, a chorus of surprised yells rising from the people. The sprinklers erupted in the break rooms, in the offices, in the bathroom down the hall, making the fresh blood on the floor turn pale pink as it ran across the marble, away from the chief. The sirens wailed. The clock ticked on.

"We all need to leave!" shouted Ryan over the sound of water pattering against the floor. "We all need to leave, now!"

Horsley was already halfway towards the doors, her grey hair sticking to her face, her eyes fearful behind her glasses. She was alone. No Norris beside her. Ryan ignored the judge's orders to stop what he was doing _right now_ , heading over to his team, urging them to get everyone out _now_. It wasn't a drill. This was serious. They were all in danger. He pushed open the heavy double-doors, the security helping him drag them all the way as the people began to trickle out. They moved along in a hesitant crowd, still hearing the judge demanding that they get back this instant, that she'd have Bergara's badge for disobeying a judge's direct order. The lawyers lingered, clearly anxious, but Shane wouldn't harm his own lawyer, right? And they couldn't leave without the judge's permission, that would cost them their careers. Ryan hurried down the corridor, his shirt sticking to him with the water still pouring down from the ceiling, his gaze flickering around the hall, trying to get a hint of what Shane was doing, what he had planned. People swept in from adjoining corridors, pushing into the crowd, spilling out into the parking lot. But they weren't moving fast enough.

"Come on!" Ryan shouted above the chatting, the sirens, the pouring water. "It's not a drill! Get out!"

The chatting went quieter, the footsteps grew louder. The journalists seemed baffled, the security guards troubled, all of them backing away to make room for the surge of people fleeing the building, fleeing the screaming alarms, fleeing the cold water. 

"Ryan!" Horsley's voice cut through the rest, her hand grabbing his arm, pulling him back to her, people shoving past. "Francesca is still inside!"

"What?" He glanced back at the building, at the empty entrance hall, the air misty with the sprinklers. The lawyers came around the corner, their files held over their heads to try and keep themselves relatively dry. "You can't go back in there!"

"She hasn't come out yet!" shouted Horsley, her makeup running down her pale face. "She said she was just going to her office! Tinsley never came back from the bathroom! Ryan, she-"

Ryan spun, pushing back through the crowd, eyes wide as he searched above the heads of the businessmen, businesswomen, mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters, checking for a glimpse of salt-and-pepper hair. "Tinsley! Tinsley, where are you?!"

Tinsley was in the bathrooms, on the floor, bleeding out from the multiple stab wounds in his chest. He lay on his back, barely reacting to the icy water pouring down from the ceiling. He rolled onto his front, the floor slippy under his hands, with water, with his blood. He dragged himself towards the door, so slowly he may as well have not bothered. And there he died an undignified death, unbeknownst to Ryan shouting for him outside, struggling to get back into the building. In the end, there wasn't even a body to bury.

The explosion ripped through the courtroom, the halls around it, blasting out the window, the wall shattering into a hundred pieces like it was glass, spraying outwards. The crowd screamed as one, feeling another explosion shake the ground, the flames sweeping out the entrance, the doors flying off their hinges. The crowd screamed, the people passing by on the street screamed, the sirens screamed. 

"NO!" Ryan felt arms around him, pulling him away from the smoke that was now beginning to billow out of the side of the building. "NO, TINSLEY!"

"Ryan, come on!" His coworkers struggled to drag him away, eventually lowering him to the ground gently. "Oh, Ryan. Ryan, _shit_."

He buried his face in his hands, sobbing openly, just like the majority of the crowd behind him. The street was nothing but smoke, and cries, and panic, and the realization that justice doesn't always prevail.

* * *

Shane straightened up off the window sill with a deep breath. He could hear the crying, and the screaming, the people and sirens wailing alike. He picked up his glass of water, raising it to his mouth. He took a sip, gaze distant. He wasn't even sure who he'd killed yet. By the sound of things, it was a few. He knew Tinsley was done and dusted; Kelsey had confirmed that much. He waited for some signal, something to update him. Within five minutes, his phone beeped. He hesitated before picking it up, silently praying that it wouldn't be him.

 _Norris gone_. 

He smiled with relief. He locked his phone, going back to the window. The smoke was rising into the sky, thick black clouds. The firetrucks screeched to a halt outside the now-flaming building. He took a sip of his drink. Then he grabbed his coat, and walked out of his office, and the rest of them followed.

* * *

_**One Week Later.** _

Ryan felt like ripping the paper into shreds. Instead, he read it again, eyes grows watery. Again. He was surprised the Tribune was even still publishing, seeing as two of their journalists were killed in the bombing. He wished they'd taken even a weekend off from putting out story after story about him. About him and Shane. They were nearly on the front of the fucking thing by now. 

 _Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara: A NeverEnding Story_.

"Not neverending," he muttered, his throat tight. "He did it."

He read Shane's part again. A direct quote from him, as he'd been leaving the car outside the courthouse.

 _Ryan has always been a bit bitter about what happened between us. But I'm just going to say it now; I wasn't the suspect for this case. No matter what Bergara says. I never laid a finger on Ricky Goldsworth. And I sure as hell didn't bomb a f*cking building. Yes, I was due for trial that day, on the basis of suspected money laundering. The car taking me there was intercepted by masked men. I've unfortunately made a lot of enemies in my life, and this was most likely an intricate way of turning more people against me_. 

Ryan skimmed further down to Horsley's interview, in an attempt to cool the hot anger swiftly rising inside him.

 _Shane Madej was the suspect for the case. He was on his way to be tried for the murder of Goldsworth. It's as simple as that. He's twisted, and he murdered two of my closest friends. I won't rest until I see that he is served justice_.

_Our thoughts and prayers are with those who died in the bombing; Chief of Police C.C. Tinsley, Australian Ambassador to America Francesca Norris, Judge May Colfer, prosecuting lawyer David Schwartz, defending lawyer..._

The list went on for a few more names. Ryan flung the paper aside, burying his face in his hands, running his fingers back through his hair. He'd declined interviews. He hadn't been offered one at the courthouse, seeing as the second he saw Shane step out of the squad car he'd pushed himself to his feet, flying through the crowd, taking him down with a hard tackle. He'd simply laid into him, punching him again and again, holding him in place by his shirt collar which was swiftly being speckled with blood. He hadn't even heard Horsley shouting at him to stop, trying to stop him from looking quite so unstable in front of the dozens of witnesses and journalists. He was dragged off him, watching as Shane rolled onto his front, spitting blood onto the pavement. And he'd turned his head, and even though his nose was bleeding heavily and his mouth and chin were smeared with red, he still looked so... so smug. Ryan gritted his teeth at the memory, distractedly rubbing his fingers over the few scabs still on his knuckles.

And the only people who knew for sure it had been Shane was he and Horsley. Tinsley, Norris, the judge, the lawyers, they were in the ground now. Ryan's heart clenched at the memory of Tinsley's funeral. He'd only known the guy for a few months, but he had been an undeniably good man. Honorable and true in his intentions. And he died at the hands of someone whose intentions were only ever malevolent. Ryan got to his feet, breathing heavily. He felt ill. He was going to be sick. He made it to the sink just on time.

* * *

Shane lounged in his apartment. He'd been allowed out, under house arrest. Which he was okay with. He had an office in his home too. He could work from there. But he'd have to work quick; his denial of being the suspect would only last so long. He wasn't a whimsical man. He knew he was going down, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to drag everyone else down with him. He picked up the paper, narrowing his eyes at the lack of comments from Ryan in the new article on their ever-popularized relationship. Horsley was there, speaking out against him, overstepping her boundaries once again. She was next. She was next, and she was going to be soon.

He got to his feet, absent-mindedly rolling up his sleeves as he crossed to the window. He'd intended on getting rid of a few more enemies than he had. But Ryan, classic Ryan, had caught on just on time to save the majority. He raised a hand to his mouth, tracing his fingers over the dried cut on his lip. Then he took his phone from his pocket, wondering if he should do this. If he should risk it. He hit call. The answer was almost instant.

"Ryan," he said with a smile in his voice, despite the hard glare on his face. "Baby. How are you holding up."

No reply. Just a cold, cold rage. 

"You did such a brave thing last week," he continued, still wandering around his kitchen. "Saving all those lives. So noble."

A silence. 

"Pity about Tinsley. He was a good-"

"Shane." A trembling breath. "If you know what's good for you, you'll shut your fucking mouth."

"I'm just giving my condolences."

"Why are you calling me. Why are you _doing_ this."

Shane paused at the crack in the other man's voice. It wasn't from anger. It was from sadness. "Don't start getting all emotional on me, now."

"Tinsley was innocent, Shane!" Okay, he was definitely about to cry. "He never did anything to you! Why did you do that?"

 _Fuck_. "I didn't do anything."

"I understand Norris. I do, surprisingly. But there were innocent people there too, Shane. You would've killed dozens of people just to get revenge on two?"

Shane didn't reply for a long moment. "I don't have anything else to live for right now."

"You could've had me."

It felt like being stabbed. Shane closed his eyes, his hand reflexively moving to his chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. "...Don't."

"You could've, Shane. If you'd just stopped when I fucking _asked_ you, if you'd just stopped when you found out I was _still alive_ , we-"

"It's not that easy. Why can't you see that."

"Because I'm not fucking insane."

"I'd already gone too far, Ryan. You can't just pull out of a war you're halfway through. That's called losing." He swallowed. "And the only way to lose now is to die."

"That's not true."

"You know it is."

Ryan sighed wearily. "I hate when you do this. I hate when you make me understand."

"Well I hate when you make me feel things." A dry laugh. "Drives me insane."

A silence. "Is that why I'm on your list?"

Shane sat down, resting a hand over his closed eyes. "No."

"Am I on your list because of the whole case?"

"No."

Ryan swallowed. "Then why."

"Because- It's because I'm still in love with you." The words caught in his throat, but he pushed them out anyway. "Even after everything, I'm still in love with you. And I hate it."

A stunned silence. "...You were in love with me."

"Was. Am." A bitter laugh. "Probably always will be. I don't fucking know."

"I- I didn't know."

“Me neither. Not until five years had passed and I was still thinking about you every damn day.” Shane’s grip tightened on his phone, his shoulders frozen. He wasn't sure why he was telling him this. What use was it now? “I was head over fucking heels for you, Ryan. I still am. And that’s very dangerous for me.”

"I- I-" A choked swallow. "I have to go."

"I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm sorry I let you down."

Another stifled sob. "Bye, Shane."

"Bye."

The line went dead. He stared at the floor, his eyes growing watery, spilling over. But he didn't respond. He sat forwards, tangling his fingers in his hair. The tears continued in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/_KbvDvc-WFE?t=282
> 
> BIG INSPO. literally. like, i basically copied the layout of this chapter from this scene. it just fit. sue me
> 
> And also here's the obligatory songs that I would like to credit for this fic:  
> Echo Home by The Kills  
> The fucking strings from Together by The xx https://youtu.be/yoj2I6ZJLx8?t=208 that shit set the whole tone for this fic  
> Who Are You? by SVRCINA  
>  
> 
> and also im aiming for the ending to have the same range of emotions that the end of this song has https://youtu.be/86ZBolp--Zo?t=162 so yea strap in folks


	15. Make It Out Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/c5DezjSYMos  
> me after writing the ending for this chapter

"Come in."

Ryan slowly opened the door. He was anxious; there had been no security guards at the metal detectors at the front of the building, there was no one else in the building at all. The windowless office smelled strongly of alcohol. The record player whirred quietly, a melancholy song. Horsley sat at her desk, and for once in the entire time Ryan had known her, she looked disheveled. Her grey hair fell forward from its clip in crinkled strands, her glasses were removed to show her reddened eyes. Her coat hung around her shoulders, lopsided. How she was cold, Ryan had no idea. She didn't look up as she took another sip from her glass, the whiskey a deep gold. It shone in the lamplight.

"Ryan." Her voice was thick. "Ryan Bergara. You thought you'd tamed him."

Ryan didn't respond. He wasn't sure why she'd called him here. He'd expected some sort of plan, but it didn't seem like there was going to be one. He decided not to bother taking off his gloves and scarf.

"I thought I'd done it once," she continued, her voice slurring. "I thought I'd gotten Shane Madej under my thumb. A fool was I, hm?"

"Do you- Do you want a glass of water or something?"

"What is it about you, hm? Why can you walk around in broad daylight with no security, but he doesn't lay a finger on you?"

Ryan clenched his fists, unclenched them. "I don't know."

"I really don't see whatever he sees in you. In fact, I thought you would've been the exact _opposite_ of what he'd want in a man." She froze, before the smile spread across her face. "Ha. There it is again. Judging him, and getting it entirely wrong."

A silence. "Why did you call me here?"

"Because I want to let you know I've lost." She shrugged, sitting back in her chair, whiskey held with dangerous nonchalance. "Tinsley was my in with the force. Shane took him from me. Fran- Francesca..." She snorted, a very sad sound indeed. "He just took her because he could."

Ryan lowered his gaze, still standing by the door. "I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_." She narrowed her eyes at him, bitter. "You're so good, Bergara. So good all the time. How does it not make you sick."

He blinked, swallowing. "...He's going to kill you, you know."

"I know. But that's what happens when you lose." She raised her glass, taking a bit more than a sip this time. She coughed as she swallowed the burning liquid. "I lost the second I looked to the law for help. That's when you know you've lost." She tapped the table hard with each word. "That's when you _know_."

"I- I still don't-" He frowned in confusion. "Why am I here, Holly?"

She went still, looking at him. "I guess I wanted to say goodbye to at least one person before I die." A pause. "And there's no one else left for me, really."

 _Oh shit. Oh, that's sad_. "I'm sorry."

She sat back with a shrug. "Maybe you _should_ be sorry. You couldn't stop him. All the talk about how you can control him, and it turns out you can't."

His sympathy vanished at this. "I'm leaving now."

A cruel smile. "Goodbye, Detective. Enjoy all the blood on your hands."

His eyes fluttered slightly at this, his throat tightening. Then he turned away, opening the door, stepping out into the hallway before she could see the effect her words had on him. He closed his eyes, pressing his hands against them as he convinced himself it wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault, it _wasn't_. He heard the door to her office open, but he didn't look back. She was going to say something. Something horrible, probably. But he vanished around the corner, and the distant sound of the metal detector going off made her freeze. It went off again. It went off multiple times. The trumpets before the rapture. She dropped her glass, hearing it shatter on the floor as she took off after Ryan. Facing death was suddenly not so easy.

* * *

Shane threw suspicious glances at the empty offices as he headed further into the building, hearing his men searching through them behind him. She either had a plan, or she'd given up. He knew she was in here somewhere; she'd entered the building and never left. That's what his lookouts had told him as one of them expertly removed the house arrest bracelet. Goldsworth had built up a very useful team indeed. He was just leaving his apartment for the night, anyway. Then he'd hop back in and slip the thing back on, and relax at the thought of Horsley lying dead in some ally somewhere. 

He turned the corner, cocking the shotgun, heading right down to her office. And there she was. He could see Horsley, backing against the wall, trembling hands raised as he strode down the hall towards her, purposeful. He wouldn’t shoot her from this far, however. No, he wanted to see her face, he wanted to see actual fear in her eyes before he ended her. So he raised the gun, still walking, taking aim. Surprisingly enough, Horsley's death was going to be the easiest one to date. And then, to his genuine shock and horror, Ryan flew in from the adjoining corridor, skidding to a halt in front of her, gloved hands raised. Hands raised to protect her. 

Shane came to a halt, his hands lowering slightly, the gun with them. “Ryan, what the hell are you doing?” _What are you doing here? What are you doing?!_

“Don’t do this, Shane.” He didn’t move, jaw set. Horsley had to duck slightly in order to hide behind him efficiently, yet he still seemed big. Bigger than Shane remembered him ever being. “Don’t kill her.”

Shane stared at him for a long moment, the gun still half raised, resting in his hands. “What the  _fuck_ are you doing.”

“I’m doing the right thing.”

“You’re doing the right thing?” Shane laughed, a harsh sound. The gun was raised again, he came closer. “Spare me the bullshit, Bergara. Get out of the way.”

“Put the gun down.”

“Ryan, move.”

“Put the fucking gun down!”

Shane came closer still, eyes locked on the shorter man’s. “Get out of my way. Now.”

Ryan didn’t move, grim determination clear on his face. “I won’t let you do this, Shane. Put the gun down.”

Said gun was now inches from his face, Shane looming over him, not lowering it even an inch. “Move.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Move, Ryan!” The words were rough with anger, his fingers readjusting themselves on the trigger. “Don’t make me kill you.”

“You won’t.”

Shane suddenly stepped forwards, the gun pushing under Ryan’s chin, pressing against his throat. “I pull this trigger, and it’ll go through you  _and_ her and the fucking  _wall_ , alright? So unless you’re willing to die for the woman who coordinated your fucking death, move.”

Horsley’s fingers were visible on Ryan’s shoulders, clinging to her lifeline. It made Shane sick. He turned his gaze back to Ryan’s, intense, unwavering. Ryan looked right back, his hands still raised, the gun still tilting his head back slightly.

Shane took a quiet breath, his grip tightening on the shotgun. “Ryan. Last chance.”

Ryan swallowed hard, staying silent. Half of him fully believed that Shane wouldn’t hurt him, not even a scratch. But the other half remembered Shane as what he used to be when Ryan first encountered him; cold, calculating, and ruthless. What was his was his, and God help anyone who tried to take it from him. Or stop him from getting it. And right now, in this moment, Shane believed vengeance belonged to him and him alone. Ryan heard Horsley praying quietly, murmured whispers from behind him, just audible over the heavy breaths from behind him, from in front of him. 

“Do it,” said Ryan, still not taking his eyes from Shane’s. “Do it, you son of a bitch. If I'm on your _list,_ kill me.”

Shane’s jaw clenched, and for once he really wished that he was back at the beginning. Back when Ryan was nothing but an eternal thorn in his side, and he would’ve pulled the trigger in a heartbeat. He wanted to beg him, to plead with him to move. But he wouldn’t. Not since Horsley was listening. 

“Ryan.” The name was a warning, said through gritted teeth. “You know what this means to me.”

“It means too much to you,” replied Ryan instantly. “It means _way_ too much to you, Shane.”

Neither of them moved for a long moment, both of them equally tense, frozen in place. Shane suddenly whipped the shotgun away, his eyes still on the shorter man’s. And in them was just the tiniest hint of shame. Shame at the fact he’d let someone get so close to him that he wouldn’t kill them for the one thing he wanted the most in the world. He stared at Ryan, and Ryan stared at him, and neither of them spoke a word. He turned away, stalking back down the corridor, the fury palpable, hotter than the hell all of them had been through. Ryan watched him leave, black coat fluttering with the pace he was going at. And it was only when Shane vanished around the corner that Ryan lowered his hands, that he allowed himself to feel the sickness in his stomach, the racing of his pulse. Horsley didn't come out from behind her human shield for a long while. And when she did, the look on her face made Ryan want to dash her head off the wall.

"Well, Bergara," she smiled, tucking her messy hair behind her ear. "Maybe you are useful after all."

He stared at nothing, at the empty corridor. Shane could've done it. He could've easily done it there. He could've pulled that trigger, and his list would be wiped. But he hadn't. Because he was still in love with Ryan, and deep down, Ryan knew full well that he was in love with him too. It made his chest tight. It made it hard to breathe. His eyes followed her into her office, where he heard a bottle clinking, the glugging of a fresh glass being filled. He stood in the doorway, the glass she had dropped crunching under his feet. She gave him an unbothered once-over.

"What?"

He blinked. "What did he mean by you coordinating my death?"

Horsley paused for a moment. Then she turned away, pretending to be preoccupied with searching for something on her desk. "Oh, I don't know."

Ryan continued staring at her, and he felt like screaming for being so fucking stupid for the past months. She'd still been talking to McClintock. Banjo McClintock, who'd sold him and Shane out without a second thought. And how had Horsley betrayed Shane? Why was Shane so incurably furious with her? He stepped into the office, pulling his scarf down from over his mouth. It was suddenly too warm.

"I expect he has some issues," she said into the silence, still with her back to him. "Mentally."

"No. No, he doesn't." No. Each death was justified in his own mind. 

"You still like him, do you?"

Ryan closed the door over behind him, but he didn't shut it. He didn't want to startle her into action. A still target was easier than a moving one. "I do."

She went quiet. "Why?"

"He saved my life."

"You don't owe him anything for that."

Ryan pulled his glove off one hand, tucking it into his pocket. He'd need a firm grip. "I owe you something."

She went still. Slowly, she turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him. Her eyes widened in alarm.

* * *

Shane stood outside Goldsworth's office, smoking angrily. He'd have to get rid of Ryan, he really would. Horsley was going to jump on that, jump on what had just happened. He was furious. Mainly with himself. _It's not that hard to just pull a trigger, Madej_. But he couldn't. He physically hadn't been able to. Ryan had looked too much like he had when they'd bumped into each other in Union those few months ago, all wrapped up in his scarf and gloves and coat. Back when happiness had seemed even a little attainable. He should really go into his office and plan, just like he had with all the others. Stay up all night, thinking, predicting, plotting how to get rid of everyone who'd been involved in what had happened. But the thought of going in and planning how to kill Ryan just seemed impossible. Futile, even. The main reason he'd started on this attempt to get justice was because he'd thought Ryan was dead. And then to just turn around and kill him in the end anyway? Shane closed his eyes, coming to a slow halt. What a mess he'd made.

His phone buzzed, jerking him out of his emotions. He swiftly answered. "What do you want, you little fuck?"

"Shane, I- I-"

Shane frowned at the gasped attempt at a sentence. "Ryan? What's wrong?"

"I- I need your help." Oh shit, he was crying. A lot. "I've done something. Oh fuck, I've done something really _really_ bad, Shane."

He was already heading towards the car, throwing his cigarette aside. "Where are you? What's wrong?"

"I just- I didn't mean to. No, I did. I just didn't think. I don't know. I don't _know_."

"What did you do, Ryan?" Was this some trick? It could be. But inside, he knew Ryan wouldn't do that. Not now. "Tell me."

A long silence. When he spoke, the words were hoarse. "I killed her."

Shane paused. "What?"

"I- I killed Horsley. I shot her." A hard swallow. "She's dead. There's blood everywhere. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to-"

"Stay there. Stay right fucking there." He waved for the rest to get in the car too; it wasn't going to be a solo trip after all. "I'll sort it out. Just wait for me."

"Okay. Okay, I'll wait for you."

Shane heard Kelsey start the engine, heard the others getting in. "Do you want me to stay on the phone?"

A tearful pause. "Yes. Yeah, I think I do."

"Okay, right, we'll be there soon. Just calm down."

* * *

He saw him instantly. Ryan was sitting against the wall outside her office, his face buried in his hands. The gun lay on the floor a few feet away. The office door was closed. Ryan lifted his head, scrambling to his feet, going right into Shane's arms, hard enough for the taller man to take a step back. Shane could feel him crying, his shoulders shaking. So he held him tight, and told the others to get rid of the blood, the body, the weapon. And oddly enough, the urge to see Horsley's body didn't cross his mind once. He brought Ryan out to the front of the building, to the dark empty street, sitting him down on the low stone wall in front of Horsley's offices. He cupped Ryan's face, tilting his head back, finally seeing the dried blood on it. Horsley's last devious thoughts. 

"Oh, Ryan." He searched his watery eyes, softly rubbing his thumbs against the man's stubbled cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," mumbled the other man, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Shane straightened up, glancing around the street. He looked down at the other man, at the distant look in his eyes, and he remembered exactly what it felt like to kill someone for the first time. It was terrifying. You couldn't help but think of who you'd just taken them from. He placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder, crouching down to look him in the eye.

"Ryan." He swallowed hard, wondering if this was a good thing to do. "Do you want to stay with me tonight?"

Ryan blinked a few times, sniffing. His breaths fogged in the cold. Then he nodded his head. 

"It'll have to be kept quiet," said Shane just as softly, holding the other man's hands. "For the media. We-"

"I know." Ryan closed his eyes, a lone tear rolling out. "I know. But- Just one night." 

"Okay." Shane lifted the other man's hand to his mouth, giving it a light kiss. "Just one night."

Ryan didn't speak in the car. He stared out the window, watching the streetlights go by. Shane drove. The others could find their own ways home, whenever they were done. He had more important things to take care of now. He spared a glance at Ryan, at the way his face was periodically lit up with each passing light. He looked away, the softness he was feeling almost painful. This wasn't fair. Nothing was ever fair.

They still didn't talk, even once they were in the apartment, Shane closing the door before shrugging off his coat. Ryan seemed out-of-touch, still numbed by what he'd just done. He felt Shane's hands on his shoulders, helping him take his jacket off, placing it on the table. He sat Ryan down, got a damp towel, wiped the few specks of blood away from the other man's face. He could see his eyes growing watery again, unblinking.

"Ryan." He raised a hand to cup his face, gentle. "I know it seems scary. But some people deserve it."

Ryan raised his gaze, sniffing again. "I didn't used to think that."

"You do now?"

"Yeah. I do now."

Shane nodded, gaze lowered. "There's a spare bed, if you-"

"No." Ryan shook his head, the most sure movement he'd made since entering the apartment. "No, I want to stay with you."

That hurt. For some reason, that hurt Shane a lot. Not in a vindictive way, but in a wistful way. "That's okay."

So he showed Ryan into his room, and he gave him an old pair of flannel pajamas, and he felt the tears in his eyes as he saw Ryan in them. He had to clench his teeth to stop himself from openly crying then and there. He sat on the bed, still in his clothes. He wasn't planning on going to sleep yet. He had some more things to plan, to fine-tune. He watched as Ryan got under the covers, so much so that only his closed eyes were visible. He leaned over, running a hand through the man's dark hair, his chest hurting at the sight. And to his genuine surprise, Ryan smiled slightly, opening his reddened eyes.

"I smell like you now."

Shane returned the small smile. "Well it is my bed. And my pajamas."

"Yeah." A pause. "Well, guess I'm going to be getting fired twice." A wry laugh. "I'm just not cut out for the force, it seems. No matter what continent."

Shane sighed heavily. "It's been my fault, though. Both times."

"Yeah, you're right. It has." Ryan closed his eyes again, feeling very worn out indeed. "You owe me."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Shane watched him for a few minutes, still lightly running his hands through his hair. Then he lay down beside him, his face inches from Ryan's, feeling the other man's hand find his, their fingers interlocking. Ryan opened his eyes, the shine from them evident even in the dark. 

"I'm sorry, Ryan." Shane swallowed hard, his breathing suddenly very difficult to keep regular. "I'm sorry I couldn't change."

"Don't." Ryan sniffed, a wet sound. "I couldn't change either."

"I would've, if I could." He took a shaky breath, his eyes growing hot with tears. "I would've done anything for you."

"Shane."

"It's true. I- I-"

"Shh." Ryan drew him in against his chest, feeling the hard sobs as Shane wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could. "Shane. I know. You proved it more than once."

"I missed you so much. So fucking much."

"I missed you too." Ryan pressed his trembling lips together, his breaths jumping. "I missed you so much I couldn't stand it. And I'm sorry I fucked this up for us."

"Ryan, no." Shane propped himself up on an elbow, his tears pushed aside for a minute. "It wasn't you."

"It was me."

"It wasn't _just_ you. I shouldn't have lied to you." He placed a hand against the side of Ryan's face, his gaze flickering up and down it, taking it in while he still could. He absent-mindedly traced his thumb along the scar on the other man's cheek. "I should've told you what I was doing from the beginning. I should've trusted you."

Ryan didn't reply for a moment, watching the other man's darkened features. His words were whispered. "I love you."

He heard the shaky exhale. "I love you too."

A weighted pause. "So what are we going to do?"

"I don't know. There's nothing we really can do."

"Yeah." Ryan sniffed again, before sighing heavily. "I guess we'll do what we always do, hm? Just stumble through it."

Shane managed a weak smile. "Yeah. Act like we both know exactly what we're doing."

"Bullshit, right?"

"Right." He rolled back onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Do you ever think about what might've happened if we'd just met under normal circumstances?"

"What? You mean most people _don't_ meet their perfect partner in an interrogation room in a police station?" He laughed, hearing the other man's laughter echo his. "But yeah. Yeah, I do think about that. A lot."

A silence. "Would've been nice, right?"

"Would've been ideal."

Shane let his gaze drift, distant. "I think we could've gone the whole way."

"Hm?"

"Marriage, kids, all of it." He turned his head to look at the other man, feeling choked up already. "I think I would've done that with you."

Ryan smiled at him, a sad smile. "Grow old together, all of that?"

"Yeah. All of that."

Ryan stared at him, his smile slipping. Then he rolled over, resting his hands on Shane's chest, kissing him softly, lovingly. He felt Shane's arms slip around him, pulling him close, still kissing him deeply. Ryan broke away, keeping their faces close, their noses almost touching.

"Maybe just for one night," he whispered, feeling Shane's breaths against his mouth. "We could pretend."

Shane nodded, smiling despite his watery eyes. "Yeah. I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/AGUPhRcMLeU credits song because damn it matches
> 
> https://youtu.be/JpNCuMRurmc
> 
> this is the mood for a certain scene in the next, LAST chapter.... man i teared up just thinkin about it lmao i got struck with an idea for the last sentence and i stopped writing it halfway through because my own hart  
> if u wanna skip the whole build up in the instrumental ( u fool) then just go to 2:40 and that's the inspo for a BIG SCENE which is gonna include a police station, a crowd, and a lot of running


	16. Sacrifice

Ryan woke up alone that morning. For a moment, he was baffled. He was in an unfamiliar room, in a bed that wasn't his. But then it came back to him; it was Shane's apartment, Shane's bed, Shane's pajamas he was wearing. And then came the memory of Horsley, of the sound of the gun firing, of her blood splattering the walls. He felt the panic rising in his chest, rolling over to reach for Shane. But he was alone.

He sat upright, holding the covers around him. "Shane?"

No response. He'd been there earlier, he knew he had. He'd woken up while Shane was leaving, to go and "do some stuff". Ryan had been too tired to question it. And too unwilling to ruin what had been a nice, normal night. No drama, no tension, no fighting. Just the two of them asleep in each other's arms, with the comforting knowledge that the other would still be there whenever they woke up. Or maybe not.

"Shane!" Ryan got out of the bed, moving to the kitchen. "You here? I- Oh. Hello."

A woman was in the kitchen, sorting through boxes of files. A giant shredder was at the ready beside her. "Hi."

Ryan hesitated. "Where'd he go?"

"Oh, his offices, probably."

Ryan nodded slowly, watching the woman beginning to take the piles of documents off the table and chuck them right into the shredder. The sound of tearing paper hurt his ears. He got dressed, put his coat back on, his scarf, his gloves, before heading back out into the real world. It was bitterly cold. He recognized the area; Shane's home was close to his offices, it appeared. So he took off towards the building, hands in his coat pockets, feeling just a bit uneasy. 

There were cars outside the offices too, an unusual amount. He stopped at the bottom of the steps up to the building, his breath fogging in front of him. People were coming and going with boxes upon boxes, dumping them into the cars, some cars leaving, some returning to be refilled. He stood for a long moment, a frown on his face. A blonde woman passed by, boxes in her arms.

"Hey." He followed her to the car she was heading towards, bafflement clear on his face. "What's going on?"

"Just a spring clean," she replied vaguely.

"Okay." He hurried up the steps, through the corridors.

Shane's office was empty. Completely empty. Filing cabinets gone, desk gone, bookshelves gone. Just a vacuous space, with little pieces of dust floating in the morning sun like gold. He moved to the window, squinting out. From here, he could see the courthouse, the scaffolding around it. He hesitated before turning away, heading back out the door and into the street. He swallowed hard, looking from side to side. Looking for him.

"Where's Shane?" he asked the blonde woman again, getting a surprised look, until she finally recognized him. "Is he around?"

"Oh, I don't know. He does this sometimes." She shrugged as she moved off. "Just vanishes."

"Yeah." He stared at the street, gaze distant. "I know."

He saw a news van fly past, CNN. It whipped around the corner, disappearing. Another followed almost instantly. Ryan took a few steps forward, his eyes wide. Shane wouldn't have killed someone again, would he have? There was no one left. Ryan rubbed at his chest, feeling his heart beating fast. He had already begun walking when his phone rang in his pocket; one of his coworkers.

"Hey, Ryan. Shane came in a few minutes ago."

Ryan blinked, coming to an abrupt halt. "I- What?"

"To the station. He's in with the deputy still. Just thought you should know."

"Okay." Ryan hung up, beginning to pick up the pace, his heart positively hammering now. "Okay. Okay."

He was running by the time he hit the corner, his scarf fluttering behind him with the pace he was going at. Another news van skidded past, the people on the paths not sparing it a glance. They were all walking in the same direction, curious heads in business suits, deviating from their usual route to work to see what was going on. The sound of a chattering crowd could be heard. Ryan found himself pushing through more and more people, the station still just around the corner. He shoved right into the bustling crowd, circling another news van, out the back of which the team were beginning to spill out, cameras and microphones ready. Ryan ignored the irritated curses as he clawed his way through the crowd, his eyes wide, his breath eluding him, and not just because he'd been running. He could see the entrance to the station over everyone's heads, the doors closed. But he didn't make it before he hit the barrier, keeping the crowd back from the doors. From the squad car sitting, waiting outside the entrance. Ryan could feel his stomach churning, his body switching between too hot and too cold, his grip tight around the metal barrier.

"No," he breathed, seeing the movement behind the door to the station. "No. No no no. Don't."

He could hear the news reporters, they all seemed to echo each other, announcing the same information. _A man has come forwards and confessed to the string of murders that have occurred over the last five years, a man whom the media has dubbed 'Dexter', due to his targets exclusively being criminals themselves_. Ryan shook his head, eyes still glued to the doors, trying to tell himself that it wasn't him. That the tall figure behind the frosted glass wasn't him.

"The man has supposedly given the manner of death and location of the body of well-known lawyer Holly Horsley," said a news reporter solemnly. "Who is the latest - and last - victim in this-"

"Shane, don't." Ryan swallowed the taste of bile in the back of his throat, still breathing heavily. "Don't. Don't do this."

But it was too late. Shane had already done it. He'd decided, as he'd laid in bed that morning, that he wasn't going to let Ryan go to prison for a crime that essentially wasn't his fault. It had been Shane's fault, right from the beginning. He knew it had been his fault. He knew, as he'd held the other man close, felt Ryan's breaths against his chest, that it was his fault. That it was his responsibility to give Ryan back the life he'd taken from him. He wouldn't be able to go a day knowing that Ryan had lost his job, had lost everything, because of him. And he knew Ryan would say it wasn't his fault, that Ryan had chosen it himself. But he wouldn't have had the choice in the first place if it wasn't for him. So Shane had taken twenty minutes to tear himself away, and made a few phone calls, and then he'd stood in the doorway to his room, just looking at him. 

"Where are you going?" mumbled Ryan, his eyes appearing over the covers. "It's early. We still have a bit of time."

Shane smiled, a weak one. "I have to go do some stuff. Don't miss me too much."

"Okay." 

Shane had just turned away when he heard it. 

"I love you."

He paused, wiping away the lone tear that had escaped. And he looked back over his shoulder, and nodded. Because he couldn't reply. Not without letting the tears take over, and then Ryan would ask questions, and get to the bottom of it. As he always did. So he nodded with a smile, and hugged himself, and went outside, and all the way to the station. And he'd confessed to all of them. Every single one. Even the one he didn't do. Which is why he was currently being handcuffed, and he could hear the crowd, the chattering, and the clearer, calmer voices of the news reporters. 

"You ready?"

Shane blinked at the words, before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

He thought he had been. The sound of the crowd hit him like a wave, making him wince, and even in the daylight the camera flashes were overwhelming. But he was fine, really. He let himself be led down to the waiting squad car, keeping his gaze lowered. He was fine, really. Until he heard the voice.

"Shane!"

He turned his head instantly, eyes wide. "Ryan, what are you-"

"Shane, why?" He was in tears, his face wet with them as he leaned over the barrier. "Why did you do this?"

Other people were shouting the same questions, but it was different from Ryan. It didn't mean the same thing. 

"I had to." He swallowed hard, feeling one of the cops give him a little push to keep moving. "For you."

"No, no, you don't-" Ryan ducked under the barrier, ignoring the yells of the closest cop as he skidded to a halt against Shane, arms around him, face pressed into his chest. He felt the taller man's cuffed hands go over him, felt the chin resting on top of his head. "Don't leave me again."

Shane bit his lip hard, closing his watery eyes. "I have to."

"Please, don't." Ryan could hear the cops telling him to back off, but none of them were quite harsh about it. Even some of the crowd were just staring, heartbroken. They knew who they were. "I can't do it alone."

"I'm sorry, Ryan." He finally let them be separated, the cops pushing between them. "I love you."

"No, no, Shane, please." Ryan didn't let go of his arm, even as a uniformed cop shoved between them, pushing at the shorter man. "Please. _Please_."

Shane's cuffed hands found his, holding them tightly, so tightly. "I love you, Ryan. I love you."

"I love you too." The words were cracked, his fingers slipping from the other man's. He whispered them again. "I love you too."

The door to the squad car was shut, and the world went numb. Ryan stood in silence. It was as if all his senses had died. He couldn't hear the crowd, he couldn't feel the chilly air, he couldn't see anything but the cop car driving away. He watched it go until it disappeared around the corner. He felt like he couldn't breathe. No, he _couldn't_ breathe. He stumbled slightly, clutching his chest, he was cold, cold all over, he couldn't stop shaking. He managed a few steps before stumbling to his knees, his vision spinning. He didn't even hear the people shouting to the cops that he needed help, he needed to be brought inside. The last thing he felt was the cold concrete on the side of his face, and the last thing he heard was Shane. _I love you, Ryan. I love you_.

* * *

"It was me. It was."

"You see, you're saying that it was you, but you don't have any proof."

Ryan stared at the deputy, at the dubious look on her face. He wasn't even sure why he was bothering. One less murder wouldn't make Shane innocent. "I-"

"You don't know where the body was dumped. You don't know how it got transported to where it was dumped. You don't have a history of violence, or any motive to want to hurt Ms Horsley. I'm going to go out on a limb and say it wasn't you."

Ryan held the mug of tea as tightly as he'd held Shane's hands. "What's going to happen to him?"

She looked at him, sighing heavily. "Probably Death Row, Ryan. I'm sorry."

"Death Row." The words didn't feel real. "Okay."

"Unless there's a hung jury."

"Okay." 

He heard her hesitate before leaving. Then he sat, his mug of tea cooling in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do now. Go home, he guessed. And not back to the apartment that a dead woman was paying for. No, that held too many memories, good and bad. In fact, he realized he couldn't stay in Chicago at all. It was too much. Everything reminded him of Shane. There was nothing there for him anymore. So in order to try and keep himself distracted, he booked a one-way flight to LA, and he went home. And again, not to his apartment. He went to his home, with his family, and his dogs. He stayed there for a month or so. A few of his old coworkers from Australia called him; Kelsey, Steven, TJ. The ones who knew, the one who had known before he had even known. They were going to come over, to visit. It was a blur of a month. A bland month. He missed Shane. He missed him constantly. It hurt him to think of him. Nothing else mattered, but he knew it would pass. Eventually. 

He got in from work late. He gave his dogs a pat, sitting on the kitchen floor. No one else was home. The phone rang. He dragged himself over to it, answering with a yawn.

"Hello?"

"...Ryan?"

His heart almost jumped out of his mouth. "Shane? Is that you? Am I imagining this?"

"No. No. It's me." A breathless laugh, relieved. "Holy shit, man. I've tried literally everywhere trying to find you. You're staying with your parents?"

Ryan nodded, swallowing. It was strange to hear him. "Yeah. Just for a bit."

A pause. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm ringing you. I guess- I guess I just wanted to hear you."

"No, I'm glad you rang." Ryan sat down on the couch, feeling his dogs clambering over him, onto his lap. "Weirdly enough."

"Weirdly enough? You should be delighted." 

Ryan laughed, the first genuine one in a while. "I am. I am delighted."

"Good. Me too." Another silence. "I had a whole lot of shit I wanted to say, but I can't remember now. Fuck."

"You don't need to say anything. It's fine."

"I guess I could start by saying sorry."

"Shane, don't." He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth. "Don't be sorry. I owe you so fucking much for what you did."

"No, I did it because _I_ owed _you_. We're paid off now, right?"

"No. No, I still owe you."

"Ryan." A sigh. "I never meant to put you through all this. I really didn't have any bad intentions. I'm just bad at being good at things."

"C'mon, dude. Stop. It was my fault too. All of it. Right from the start."

"Right from the start," echoed Shane, leaning against the cool wall of the phone booth. "God, I miss you. Constantly."

"I miss you too." Ryan swallowed. "Sorry I haven't visited or anything. I don't- I was scared."

"Scared of what?" laughed Shane. "Prison?"

"Well, not prison." He shrugged, unsure of how to phrase it. "But- But where you are now. The place."

"Wait." Shane turned to look down the dark road, seeing the lights of the airfield in the distance. He turned the other way, seeing Sara's headlights getting further away. "Where do you think I am right now?"

Ryan blinked at this, straightening up slightly. "Well, the, uh, Row. Death Row."

"Ryan. Have you forgotten who I am?" 

He turned his head, gaze lowered as he smiled. "Are you serious?"

"It was a hung jury, baby."

"Fuck me. No way."

"Life sentence for me, in a normal, federal prison." Shane grinned at the laugh he heard, the bright sound that brought so much light into his life, no matter how dark it got. "Or at least, that's what the po-po thinks right now."

"You're fucking ridiculous." Ryan was on his feet now, feeling inexplicably happy at the prospect of Shane dodging the law, a reaction he'd never thought he'd have. "Where the hell are you going, you son of a bitch?"

"Oh, I have a lovely place in the Bahamas that I'm just _dying_ to see again." His voice took on a sad edge, a nostalgic one. "Almost as much as I'm dying to see you."

Ryan pressed his lips together in a small smile. "I think this is the end of the road for Bergara and Madej. For real, this time."

Shane sighed wearily. "Yeah. I suppose it is. I didn't think a criminal-ridden island would be up your street."

"Unfortunately not. You're the only good criminal in my books."

Shane held the payphone tightly, tapping the edge of the coin slot with the nickel he was holding. "Jesus. I'm going to miss you."

Ryan smiled, a sad one. "Go on, Madej. Get out of here."

"Yeah. I suppose I should." He struggled to put the phone down, blinking rapidly in an attempt to hold back the tears. "I'm still in love with you. By the way."

"I'm still in love with you too. And I highly doubt it'll ever go away." Ryan swallowed hard, despite the lump in his throat. "And I'm sorry for all the stuff I said. All the bad stuff. I didn't mean any of it."

"I didn't mean anything either. None of it. I was just mad. At myself." Shane saw the plane come in, touch down, the roar of the engine distant. "I have to go."

Ryan nodded, his voice shaky. "I love you, Shane."

"I love you, Ryan." He hesitated, the phone heavy in his hand. Then he hung up, resting his head against the hand that was still holding the phone. Then he turned, hurrying down the road towards the fence. "Hey, let me in."

Steven yanked open the fencing, stepping back. "Well? How is he?"

"Okay. I think he'll be okay." _As much as I might be_.

"Take this." TJ shoved the fake ID at him, the badge, looking him over. "Yeah, you might pass. Don't shave the stache till you land."

"But shave it the second you land," added Kelsey. "It's the worst thing I've ever seen."

Shane grinned at them, slapping Steven on the shoulder. "When you see Ryan, kiss him for me. Right on the mouth. With tongue. Do it."

"Absolutely not."

"Get on the damn plane, man." TJ was already walking away, bag on his back, suitcase in hand. "Jesus. I can't believe we're smuggling a fugitive out of the country."

"Oh, it'll be fine." Kelsey smiled sadly. "Kind of heartbreaking, isn't it? Their whole situation. Right from the start."

"Can't wait to see Ryan's face when we tell him." Steven grinned. "Hey, we may or may not have smuggled the love of your life out of the country. Happy early birthday?"

Shane sat on the plane in silence, looking out the window. He'd been lucky. He knew he'd been lucky. He couldn't believe it when Sara had wandered into the visitor room, all serious and ready for action. He'd redeemed himself in her eyes, she said. He'd proved that he was still human. She'd been worried for a while. He admitted that he'd been worried too, about himself, about his sanity. But that last night with Ryan reminded him of the fact that he wasn't like that at all. Ryan Bergara wouldn't love a man like that. So he and Sara had hatched a plan in murmured voices, with subtle words and subtle hints but the end result wasn't subtle at all. The prison guard on Shane's block agreed to a fee of $15,000 for turning a blind eye. Goldsworth's goons gave him a hand one last time at the end, the prison break of the century, which was the headline Ryan was reading as he ate his breakfast.

"Well holy shit." Ryan shook his head, letting his spoon drop back into his bowl. "Shane Madej, you sly dog. How did you manage that."

He knew Steven, Kelsey, and TJ had played a part. They'd told him. But they never found out exactly how he'd escaped prison. Ryan knew he wasn't going to find out anytime soon. Maybe he never would find out. So he went, and added the new articles to all the old ones. In this way, their story was almost like a book. He could look back on it when he wanted to, but in time he knew he wouldn't want to anymore. He wouldn't need to. He'd get over it, he'd get _used_ to it, to the constant yearning. But really, he was happy. He was calm. Because he knew that Shane was probably out there somewhere, relaxing in the sun and sipping on a mojito. He rolled his eyes at the thought. It was better than imagining him being stuck in prison, anyway. 

Plus, the Bahamas wouldn't be the worst place to visit in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna give it a v sad ending but hey!!! i changed my mind and here's a happy-ish one because y'all deserve it !! 
> 
> sad one was shane dies. but it's okay he didn't. yay !!
> 
> ALSO here's a GREAT playlist made for this fic by flappy-spookster on tumblr https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5i87J26S4j0tr0bUw3BhoB


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